Remembering Sunday
by Raptured Ignorance
Summary: AU/AH; Afflicted by a terminal, genetic disease, Isabella Swan is desperate to lose “it” before she dies. Her best friend since they were in the womb Edward Cullen just might be the boy to help her. Well, not until he saves her life, of course.
1. Prologue The Day I Died

**Summary:** Afflicted by a terminal, genetic disease, Isabella Swan is desperate to lose "it" before she dies. Her best friend since they were in the womb Edward Cullen just might be the boy to help her. Well, not until he saves her life, of course.

**Rating: **M for dark topics like death, diseases, and sensitive subjects.

**A/N: **I have been trying to write this prologue perfectly for the last three days, and I think I finally got it. DSYH has been put on hold due to lack of inspiration for that story, sorry guys.

But I love this one a lot.

"Remembering Sunday" by All Time Low is going to be the only song that will really fit this story, so go and listen to it if you haven't. I never thought I would like All Time Low, and now I really do! Surprising to say the least.

Anyway, without further meaningless banter, please read my sad, sad story!

**Disclaimer: **_Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer.

* * *

_"I'm not coming back, I've done something so terrible  
I'm terrified to speak, but you'd expect that from me  
I'm mixed up; I'll be blunt  
Now the rain is just washing you out of my hair  
And out of my mind  
Keeping the eye on the world  
So many thousands of feet off the ground  
I'm over you now, I'm at home in the clouds  
Towering over your hair."  
- - - "Remembering Sunday" by All Time Low_

**Remembering Sunday  
****Prologue - The Day I Died**

Since I was seven, I had been planning my funeral. Instead of dreaming about the day I would get married to my prince charming, I was wondering what kind of flowers I should have on my casket.

The day I actually died, I was in his arms, in the rain, when he couldn't make it to the hospital in time. But I was happy. I could have died alone, so many years before my time. Instead, he was with me, the man who had given me so much more time.

Time. Most people think it moves sluggish. At school, work, they always complain: _Why can't it go faster?_ I was the one teenager in school who never wanted to leave high school. It would mean I'd have less _time_. No one else had to worry about that like I did. They could complain about it being slow. I could cry and scream, throwing things and asking over and over again: _Why can't I have more like them?_

"Hold on, Bella, please," He cried, his tears mixing with the pouring rain around us. I took a struggled breath, blinking. "I'll go get help," he said, going to set me down, but I reached up and fisted my hand in his shirt.

"No," I muttered, my voice being drowned out by the torrent of rain beating down on us. I shook my head weakly, desperately wishing he wouldn't let me go. "No. Just . . . stay with me." I swallowed, trying to labor my breathing.

He reluctantly agreed, kneeling down and holding me in his arms. "Don't leave," I breathed, my eyes closing. He shook his head, a sob breaking through his lips. I rolled my head until my forehead was pressed against his bicep, savoring his scent for the last time. I wouldn't make it through this one.

But I was okay with it. I was content in his arms while my heart sputtered in my chest, slowing down and picking up at the same time. It was a mix of hurt and thrill.

I was scared. "Don't leave," I repeated, locking my hand on the collar of his shirt. I took one last breath, letting my body relax. I couldn't feel my heart beating anymore. I tried taking a breath. I failed.

~*~*~

"Bella," He says, shaking her once gently. Denial. "Bella," His voice is firmer, his hand moves a wet piece of hair from her face. He doesn't believe she can be dead already. They said she would get better. That she would live. A sob breaks through his lips and he pulls her body close, putting her head on his shoulder so her still-warm forehead is pressing against his neck.

He knows that if he takes her home, they will blame him for not taking care of her and taking her to a hospital. They will yell at him. They will take her away from him.

He slips his arm under her thin legs - the same legs that had once kept her away from so much - and carried her to where should have been taken: the hospital. He should have taken her. He knows this. But he couldn't. She didn't want to be there. And he could not deny her.

"Dad," he chokes as the blonde man turns the corner. The doctor looks up and he drops the clipboard had has been flipping through.

He picks the tiny, soaked girl from his son's arms, in place of the clipboard. The son stands with his arms still held out, as if he is still holding her, trying to get used to the absence of her weight.

The doctor rushes down the hallway, the girl's torn shoes dripping dirty water onto the white tile. He tries to find a pulse, is unsuccessful, and tears the shirt from her chest, something he's done too many times before.

A nurse dries her skin quickly but thoroughly. A ringing fills the small room as a monitor is hooked to her hand to read her heartbeat. The doctor shocks her once. The doctor shocks her twice.

He wipes his brow. She can't die. He can't let her die with his son here. He shocks her again, the third time. _No. No. No. No!_ he yells inside, a knife twisting inside his gut. He takes the paddles and presses them to her flesh again, knowing her crippled heart could not take too much more. Her muscles clench and unclench with the fourth shock.

The doctor cannot give up. His face pained, angry, and determined, he moves to shock her again. Fifth time. The flat line still flows on the screen. The machine still screams with that one, ominous tone. His movements jerky, he goes to shock her again. Someone holds him back.

Turning, it's a nurse that has been with him since internship. "Carlisle," she mutters, her eyes sad. She has seen this girl here so many times before. She shakes her head, "Call it."

The two other nurses silently exit the room, knowing there is nothing more they can do while he is still there. The nurse removes her hand from his arm, taking the paddles from his hands.

He swallows, slowly lifting his head to the clock on the south wall of the room. "Eleven twenty-seven." He whispers, putting his hands behind his head; he is scared to look down at the girl on the bed. What he will see frightens him. Her skin pale, her lips blue.

Without him knowing, his colleague has left. The doctor shakes his head, runs his hands over his face. How could she be dealt this horrible card? He shoves the monitor from its perch, silencing the ear-wrenching ring that would forever remain her heart.

He tries to fix her shirt so she is not exposed, his eyes filled with tears that cloud his vision. "I am . . . so sorry, Bella," He stares at her face. Her lips are slightly parted, her eyes closed, and her wet, matted hair stuck to her face. She is peaceful, and an agonizing smile fits itself on his face. She did not die in pain.

He cannot go and face his son, so he sits in her room, asking for his patients to be traded off. His elbows on his knees, his hands over his mouth, he stares at her body. More precise, the gold ring and band around her third finger. Her hand is hanging just outside of the bed, still locked in a crippled position. Even in death, her body wasn't free from the disease.

~*~*~

In the lobby, the son had fallen to his knees, his arms still held out like he was holding his love. Someone had come by and wrapped a wool blanket around his waterlogged shoulders, trying to get him to stand, but he did not budge. The lobby buzzed around him, the people a blur.

She is gone. She has died at least twice with him in the room, always coming back and smiling the next day. But now she is really gone.

He does not want to remember this day.

* * *

**A/N: **I cried when writing this. ):

So, what do you guys think? Yes? No? Too depressing? Review and let me know!

Oh, and I'm officially taking a set date to update off for me. It's just too much pressure. I just got a letter of homework from my high school to do over the summer. Arrg, I have about 15 books to read! FML.

-R.I.


	2. The Virgin Virgo

**A/N: **I think a few of you were confused on how this story will go. Have you ever read those kinds of books or seen a movie where the end is given to you at the beginning? That's how this story works. I gave you what will happen, but I just have to fill in the giant gap with the beginning and middle now. That being said, I will be having childhood memories and current events in this story. It won't be completely depressing. Half of the story has been slightly sketched into the prologue, and as the story progresses, you'll notice it.

Sorry for any confusion.

**Disclaimer:** _Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Constance, Texas is a fictional town created by yours truly.

* * *

**Chapter One: The Virgin Virgo**

_**Isabella Swan - Age Eighteen**_

It was the second week of summer after senior year, and I hadn't been outside of my house yet.

It's not that I didn't want to leave. It's that I _couldn't_. If my mother could hold off for a few minutes of her hobbies and her part time job, perhaps she could take me to the mall to meet what few friends I do have. Charlie - my father - is out of the question. He doesn't like to see me the way I am. He loves me, of course, he just doesn't want to see his youngest daughter deteriorate before his eyes. Emmett was married and taking care of his daughter. Alice was away in Italy for college.

I was alone.

The only things really happening in Constance, Texas during the summer are a few teenagers laying in the grass at the park, sucking down the colored remains of their once-frozen OtterPops without shoes on as they watch the clouds pass by overhead. Or, perhaps a few have gotten the courage to go down to the Corona near the beach and skinny dip.

But all of that sounds so much better than taking heart medication and stumbling my way around my own house.

You see, there was this rare, genetic, and terminal disease by the name of Friedreich's Ataxia. To put it simply, I was dying from the progressive degeneration of my nervous system. It started with my feet and gait when I was about five. My parents excused it, thinking I was simply a klutz. And then my feet started to turn in, and I started walking on the outer edges of them.

Now, I couldn't walk on my own without someone to support me or leaning on something so I don't fall. If I got desperate enough, I could strap my two canes to my wrists and take an hour walk to the mall that was three blocks away. My speech was slurred and slow. I couldn't write for more than ten minutes without my hands getting tired. And my parents hadn't gotten around to fixing the damn stairs so it's easier for me to walk down them.

Across the street lived a boy. Well, not technically a boy. He hadn't been one of those since seventh grade. I watched silently behind my curtains as he walked yet another girl out of his house and helped her into his taxi, kissing her before watching as the yellow car disappeared down the street. And then he stretched and looked up at my window like he always did, running a hand through his unruly auburn hair that I adored so much.

Edward Cullen has had sex with every woman between the ages of fifteen and twenty with a pulse.

Except me.

Because who asked, got him. I never asked. I was scared that, even though he was my best friend, he'd look at me like I was insane or laugh. Not only were we best friends - our parents had pictures of us taking baths together when we were two - but I was a freak.

Pressing my lips together, I turned myself around at the waist so I could reach my bed before letting my feet pick their way after me. Charlie had left already for the station, something that was more of a family than my mother and I. Mom had a book club meeting or cooking classes that she had to get to. Depending on which one she had gotten bored with.

Most parents would find it unthinkable to leave their disabled child who could barely get around the house alone, but Renee and Charlie were different. It wasn't their fault I was alone. I _wanted_ to be alone. If I wasn't, Renee would be over me, reminding me over and over again of how many bruises I had or how many times I fell. If I wasn't, I would have to look at Charlie and how he looked at me. Or more like how he _didn't_ look at me. I was his youngest daughter. And I was dying. His brown eyes used to smile with his mouth, but now they were blank. And it hurt to know I was doing that to him.

So I sent them away, insisting that I could take care of myself. And I assured them that I would always have my cell phone on me, charged, and ready to go. Charlie was much more difficult to convince than Renee. He was protective of me, proud of me in general. Mom was medically protective of me, proud when I could make it downstairs, dressed and ready for the day, in under forty-five minutes.

Today I allowed myself to be slow and lazy, though I had gotten up early like any other morning. I kept my pajama pants on, not feeling up to the challenge of untying the bow and pulling up new bottoms on; changing my shirt to a black tank top and stuffing my fuzzy slippers on.

I walked along the wall, using my hands to keep my balance, my feet pigeon-toed. Despite what most people would think, walking down the stairs was so much harder than walking up them. I could lose my grip on the handrail any second and not be able to find anything to catch myself on and plummet to the hardwood floor. At least when I was walking up them, I could grab the stairs themselves if I lost my footing.

I made my way to the kitchen, flipping on the television over the refrigerator for background noise. I scrambled eggs for myself, managing not to spill anything all over myself. Just as I was sitting down, someone knocked the front door, a key turning in the lock, and I smiled. Only the people who were close enough to my family was given a key just incase I was home alone and couldn't get to the door in time.

That auburn hair appeared as the door opened, and as Edward spotted me, a brilliant grin fit itself onto his perfect face. Everything on him was angled, chiseled out like he was an airbrushed model in one of the many magazines Renee got subscriptions to.

"Hey there, Bells," he said, closing the door quietly behind him. I picked up my fork awkwardly, stabbing a clot of eggs and sticking them in my mouth. His eyebrows raised. "I thought I smelled food,"

I swatted his arm, smiling around my mouthful. "You're not getting any unless you're making them." I said, taking another bite.

"Aw, come on, Bells, don't be like that," he teased, looking at me though his lashes as he sat in the chair next to me. "You know I love your eggs,"

I snorted, rolling my eyes. I took a breath before speaking. "If you want, you can get a soda," I tilted my head to the fridge.

As he was pulling a Coke out for himself, I rushed in my request, "Oh, and while you're at it, can you open one for me, too? Straws are in the cupboard," I wrinkled my nose, giving him a cheeky smile as he popped the top off his and took a long pull.

He set a can in front of me, a yellow straw sticking out of the open lip. I moved it closer, taking a sip. He eyed me questionably.

And I knew what he was thinking. _Why are you drinking it with a straw? I just saw you drink from the can two weeks ago on the last day of school._

I didn't want to answer him. Because _it _had gotten worse with inactivity. It always got worse during the summer. Like any other teenager, I pigged out and sat around doing nothing.

So I didn't answer him. If he wanted to know so bad, he could always ask. I wouldn't be able to lie to him anyway. I never have been.

~*~*~

_**Isabella Swan - Age Twelve**_

_Isabella was uncomfortably averting her eyes from the boy's sitting next to her on his porch steps. She bit her thumbnail, her knees pressed together as she rested her unsteady elbow atop them. He had just outright asked her what was wrong with her. Why she fell all the time, why she stood the way she did, and why she talked so funny._

_She wasn't mad at him. How could she be mad at the one she had always loved? She couldn't. So she decided it was about time she told him, since he was getting bothered by not knowing. She swallowed, still not looking at him._

"_I'm dying," she said quietly._

"_What?" He asked, his hand jumping off the wooden step like it had bit him. She bit her lip. "What did you say?"_

_She closed her eyes for a moment before she gained enough courage to look at him. He still had baby fat on his cheeks, his lips still full like a child's. His hands were too big for the small frame he had, but he didn't know that she knew he worked out with his dad on Sundays to fix that. It was supposed to be his secret._

"_Edward, I'm dying." Her voice was firm, hoping she didn't have to say it to him again. It hurt too much. "I have Friedreich's Ataxia, um, it's like, eating my spinal cord. Kinda," she tried to explain it to him so he would understand. If she really wanted to, she could rattle off medical terms for him. Even if his father was the doctor at the hospital, he probably wouldn't know what she was talking about._

_He looked down, his plump lips parted. Recognition seemed to flash across his face, and he turned those brilliantly deep green eyes on her, making her already fast heart rate pick up inside her chest. "Is that . . . Is that why you had that surgery last year?" He reached over and touched the raised scar along her spine._

_She shook her head sadly. "No, my back was crooked, remember? Scoliosis. I got a brace put in so it doesn't curve anymore." He didn't talk for a long time, staring down at her warped feet, resting barefoot on the dirty wood._

_He bit his lip - a habit that he had picked up from her - to prevent the tears from forming in his eyes. "Are you gonna get better?" he asked, refusing to believe what she had just told him. She had to get better. She just had to._

_A lump formed in Bella's throat, feeling the tears well up in her eyes. "No," she said, looking down the street so she didn't have to see his reaction. "This is pretty much the best it's going to be . . . until my heart gives out."_

_And then she heard him gagging, his feet stumbling down the wood until he reached the shrubs next to the stairs. He fell to his knees and retched. She couldn't be dying. She couldn't die. She'd get better. She'd get better._

_Bella stayed on the steps, wrapping her arms around her legs, letting the silent tears fall down her face. She wished she hadn't told him. She hated seeing him upset. She wished she didn't _have_ to tell him. If she was healthy, they could be just fine, they could be running around and having fun. They could be laughing and tickling each other in the lawns. Instead, she had to go into the hospital occasionally for heart complications and falling. Instead, they had to be sad._

_She couldn't lie to him, though. He had asked. She had to tell him. It wasn't an option for her. It would never be an option for her._

_**Edward Cullen - Age Twelve**_

_She had probably fallen asleep, the way her lips were parted and her sunglasses were just slightly askew. His lips twitched up at the sight of Bella, completely still and relaxed, floating in his pool on the pink raft. The only reason she was wearing a bikini was because his mother had decided to spend one hundred dollars on the suit for her only "daughter" and Bella didn't have the heart to refuse._

_A week ago she had told him. A week ago, Edward Cullen had grown up. A week ago, Edward Cullen had broken down. She was going to die. Perhaps not now, perhaps not tomorrow, but she would die sooner than she should, and that was enough to make him sob so hard he hyperventilated. He had never cried so hard in his entire life. His mother had tried to console him, trying to explain that Bella still had plenty of life left, but it hadn't worked._

_Since then he had gone everywhere to find out more information on what was killing his best friend. The worst thing he had found wasn't the fact that it was a genetic disease, that the average age she would live to would be thirty-five, that she'd be in a wheelchair in a few years. No, the worst thing was that there was no cure. The amino acid frataxin was almost missing from her body, causing toxins to build up in her muscles and nerves and making them deteriorate._

_Soon, she'd need help walking. And then she'd be confined to a wheelchair, or, in the worst case scenario, she'd be completely incapacitated._

_But for now, he was content with watching her completely still on the raft in his pool, as he silently enjoyed the sight of her almost-naked body. She was somewhere between the girl he had always known, and a woman who was still oddly-proportioned, not yet getting her hips, but have _plenty_ of everything upstairs._

_Without thinking, he kicked his feet a little harder than last time. "Aah!" A squeak sounded from the girl floating by, and she jerked back as the cold water splattered on her bare stomach. The movement tipped the raft from under her, and she disappeared beneath the water._

_Instinctively, Edward slipped into the water, shivering as he felt how cold it was, just incase Bella needed help. She surfaced quickly, her sunglasses covering only one of her eyes while the other lens was halfway up her forehead. Her lips were no longer set in a perfect, elegant pose, but rather a trembling grimace, her upper lip curled up over her chattering teeth._

"_Edward, you jerk! What the hell was that?" she yelled, yanking her glasses from her face and throwing them at him. He caught them before setting them on the edge of the pool._

"_Oh, don't be such a baby, Bells. It's not that cold," he teased, ignoring the goose bumps covering every inch of his skin. He cupped his hand in the water, threatening to splash her with a wave of water._

_She sucked in a breath of air, her lovely brown eyes going wide. "You wouldn't," He laughed, shoving his hand forward and soaking her once again._

_Bella fell back into the water, bubbles rising up in her place. Edward, his sides hurting from laughing so much, stepped one foot in front of him, still careful of her._

_She came up with a glint in her eye that he had never seen before. It scared him, ceasing his chortles. "D-Don't come any closer!" she warned, her voice shaky. Despite the warning, he walked deeper into the water, frightened of what she was doing. "Seriously, Edward. My top fell off."_

_And then he started laughing again, because it was too freaking funny not to laugh at. Her arm covering herself, Bella treaded the water and reached out of the pool, snatching up the closest object - which happened to be rather hard, whatever it was - and lobbing it at him, tired of his red-faced laughter._

_That was the first day that Edward Cullen had ever seen an actual boob that wasn't his mother's. And that certainly silenced him, the next thing he knew, his mom was dabbing his forehead with a blood-spotted towel._

~*~*~

_**Isabella Swan - Age Eighteen**_

"I'll only be a minute," I promised, calling down to Edward who was waiting in the living room. I had to take my shot and my pills before I went anywhere and forgot.

"I'll be here," he assured me, causing a smile to hit my face. Where else would he be?

Sighing, I pulled open my nightstand drawer, grabbing a needle and placing it carefully on my bed. My nightstand was special, a drawer on top for the needles, and a small fridge underneath for water and my vials. After I had sanitized the side of my thigh, filled and tapped the needle, the hard part came. I had to hold up my pajama pant leg while sticking myself and pushing the needle down, all while keeping my balance and not tipping over.

I hadn't noticed the time that had elapsed, and only when Edward knocked on my door did I realize that it had been almost thirty minutes. "You okay?" he asked through the door.

I hesitated. I didn't like people helping me. It just reminded me over and over again that I wouldn't have a choice eventually. But Edward had always been different. He made me laugh when I was crying from a fall, he cleaned up my cuts, he snuck into my room at night when I called him over a nightmare.

"Actually," I muttered after a minute, "Edward . . . I-I need some help,"

He cracked open the door, peering inside to check on me. "What's wrong?"

I lifted the needle carefully. "I can't do both," I said simply, quietly. His green eyes darkened, his eyebrows lowering. He didn't like to see me like this, but there wasn't much I could do. "I. . . . Can you just hold up my pants? I think I can do the rest,"

He came over, wrapping an arm around my waist to support me and lifting the fabric a little higher. "Thanks," I murmured, pinching the skin and quickly giving myself the shot. I'm sure I wasn't meant to hear it, but Edward winced as I pushed the plunger down.

"No problem," he whispered, pushing down my pant leg before letting my waist go. I wish he hadn't, honestly.

I took my prescription quickly, asking if Edward could hand me any pair of jeans from my closet. He handed me the ones I rarely wore, just because I would rather wear the skinny pants for a purpose than just casually wear them. I eyed him curiously.

"Oh, uh," he nervously rubbed the back of his head. "I've never seen you in those yet. And . . . I'll wait for you outside,"

I smiled, letting out a small laugh as he closed my door behind him. Sighing, I flopped back on my bed, readying myself for the task of undressing and dressing my legs again.

Hmm, Edward Cullen. Alright, so I could never be mad at Edward, but I was more angry at the fact that he would let any girl into his bed, and yet never feel the way I felt about him. Did he feel the electric shock that I felt every time he hugged me or touched my arm?

Sure, it would be weird, but I had to be completely honest with myself: If I wanted to lose my virginity to any person on the planet, it would be Edward Cullen.

And that was how I decided that I had to seduce my best friend. Because I didn't have a lot of time left, and unless I wanted to pay someone, I probably wasn't going to get laid.

Edward was _going_ to be the man to get _all_ my clothes on the floor. Or I was pretty sure I was going to die The Virgin Virgo.

And really, who wants _that_?

* * *

**A/N:** Wasn't this chapter better than the prologue? I thought so. I love childhood memories, no matter whether if they're funny, "cool", or bawl-your-eyes-out sad. They always make me smile for some reason.

My Internet is currently down, since my father just lost his job. I'm trying to get online as often as possible to update and such; it all depends on if my friends are nice enough to let me use their computers. ;D

Don't forget to review!

-R.I.


	3. When We're Older

**A/N: **Hey guys, sorry for the late update. I love this chapter a lot, though. ;D

**Credit: **I have continuously forgotten to credit my best online friend/wifey/lover/best roleplaying partner, who is sometimes known as Hachi and Seiz, but I call her Jess. She has created a lot of Edward's past memories and current emotions with her own, sexy character Jasper Alexander Black, who _should_ end up with my character, Vegas Rosalind Nevada, but that's probably not going to happen because Jess is mean. Anyway! Thank you, honners!

**Disclaimer: **_Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Constance, Texas is a fictional town created by yours truly. I'm taking creative license on this story.

* * *

**Chapter Two: When We're Older**

_**Edward Cullen - Age Six**_

"_You'll see, Bella. One day, you'll see."_

"_Uh huh. Now come here and finish this with me before the water knocks it away." The girl replied, patting the side of the sand castle. The little boy huffed, refusing. "Come on, Edward, the tide's coming in soon," She complained._

_She just wouldn't listen. "No, for reals. One day I'm going to marry you." Bella sat back on her heels, rolling her big brown eyes._

"_Whatever, like I would ever get married to _you_, you're smaller than I am!" As if to prove a point, she stood from her place in the sand, and looked down at him. She was a whole head taller than him. "I mean, what if I got sick or something and I had to be carried everywhere? You'd never be able to carry me." And then she bent and picked up a cracked shell, pressing it into the side of the sand castle._

_The boy let out a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. So what if she was taller than him? That was alright. There were plenty of guys who were shorter than girls, like Bella's older brother, Emmett. He was shorter than his girlfriend. What was wrong if Edward was shorter than Bella?_

"_Now, come on, Edward." Bella reached out and grabbed the boy's hand, tugging him along down towards the water. She laughed as a waved came up and wrapped around their ankles. But suddenly, her laughter choked off and she screamed, leaping up in the air. Edward reached for her as she landed on her butt. And then he started laughing, because knotted around her feet and ankles was a thick string of kelp._

_Her eyes narrowed, Bella chucked the seaweed at him, it landing on his head. Edward fell over laughing, and she quickly joined in, shoving his chest as she water rolled in again._

~*~*~

**Edward Cullen - Age Eighteen**

I wished we never had to grow up. If we could have stayed five or six for the rest of our lives, Bella wouldn't have to be like this. She could have stayed the happy little girl she had been, and not have to worry about dying.

I wouldn't have to be latched onto her arm while she watched where she put her feet, always so careful. Why did _she_ have to be the one-out-of-four-kids statistic to get the damn disease? Why did Charlie and Renee have to get together, two one-in-fifty-thousand people?

But it happened, so all I could do was be there for Bella. As long as she said she needed me, I'd be there. Which was probably why I was at her physical therapy today. First, yesterday, she had asked me for help with her shot. Now, she would rather me be here than her mother. I could guess why, though I had never attended this before. The home Bella lived in wasn't the most pleasant place to be.

I watched silently as the doctor bent her legs while she laid on the table, her face scrunching when it would get uncomfortable. I don't know how many times they popped her ankles. This was all supposed to help her, the three-time-a-week appointments where they bent her body. I couldn't figure out for the life of me what it all did. It was to keep her walking, she said.

Walking was flexible in her case. At seven, they referred to walking as "Can you run to that wall, run back and touch my hand?" At eleven, it changed to "Can you slowly walk to that wall, and then stand there?" Fifteen, they had her walk with a nurse, Bella's hand gripping a handrail the whole time. Now, "Can you stand on your own? How far can you walk without support?"

So, if we're talking in the _Now_ term, yes, she can walk. She can stand on her own without support, and can take about five steps without someone or something to hold onto.

And it would only get worse. I kept that in the back of my mind, everyday, every hour. It never left.

"Ready?"

I hadn't even noticed that they had finished up, Bella now standing in front of me with a nurse holding carefully onto her arm. I jumped out of my mind, standing and replacing the nurse, a smile on my face. I led her out of the building and towards my silver Volvo, my graduation present.

"You were bored, weren't you?" She asked once I had turned out of the small parking lot.

I shook my head, "Of course not,"

"You don't have to come next time," Her face was turned, looking out the passenger window.

I didn't respond to that, because she knew that if she asked, I wouldn't be able to turn her down.

After a few minutes of silence, I tried to start a conversation. The quiet had seemed uncomfortable to me.

"A penny for your thoughts?" I asked teasingly, glancing over at her before returning my eyes to the road.

She didn't respond at first, and for a moment I thought she was mad at me. "Sex," she finally said, the single word coming out on a breath.

"Okay," I said slowly, drawing the word out as my face heated slightly. That definitely wasn't what I was expecting. "And?" I prompted.

"Just sex,"

I furrowed my brow. "What? Like just the word?" I pressed, trying to lighten the mood.

It worked, she let a laugh slip through her lips. "_No_," She said forcefully. I saw her turn her head to look at me out of the corner of my eye. "I don't know; it's supposed to be a really big deal, right? Why doesn't it feel like a big deal? It's like, natural, right?"

I swallowed, gripping my steering wheel tighter. "Bella," I started; who knew _I_ would be the one to give Bella The Talk? "It is a big deal. You shouldn't take it lightly."

"Says the boy who's screwed almost every woman with a pulse that isn't related to him." _Except me_.

I heard the words even if she didn't speak them.

"That's besides the point," I bit back, hoping she'd understand that she couldn't just throw the meaning behind it out the window. "What I'm saying is . . . Jesus, seriously? You're making _me_ tell you this stuff? You should be talking to your mom about . . . this."

She didn't even hesitate, "If you haven't noticed, Renee isn't the nicest person to me, Edward,"

I slowed the car down, pulling over to the side of the road -- which was really more of the highway -- but refusing to look over at her.

"Bella," I started again, "I lost my virginity when I was fourteen --" when I looked over at her, she was giving me a _look_, so I rephrased, "-- alright, twelve and a half, which just adds to my point. I lost it when I was twelve, to a girl in high school on the fifty yard line."

"Remind me never to go back to the football field, please," She laughed, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

"Yeah, don't try to hard to picture it, Bella,"

She narrowed her eyes at me, her face suddenly serious, "Seriously. Stop."

"_Anyway_, it sucked. It was cold, and the sprinklers came on." I ignored her laughter. "And _you_ of all people should care about it. I mean, you only get your first time once. Save it for someone special. You should wait until you're in love, or something."

I turned the key in the ignition, starting the car and turning back onto the road/highway. She had fallen silent next to me, and I could feel the tension crackle between us. Had I said something wrong?

"Well, I . . . I don't really have a lot of time to wait."

My hands tightened around the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white. "Stop it, Bella." I growled through my teeth.

I saw her shrug. "What? It's true."

I shook my head, wishing I could contradict her. But I couldn't. It _was_ true. If she was lucky, she'd live until she was twenty-five. Anger flared inside of me and my eyes blurred over with tears. I couldn't cry in front of her. I had to be strong. My fingers tapped against the wheel, and I bit the inside of my cheek. I flicked on the radio just for some sound.

I drove her home without speaking to one another, and slowly my anger subsided. She leaned carefully up to me, and I supported her arm, watching as her feet made their way up the porch steps. They looked so heavy on her, twisted in as if she couldn't even feel them. Bella unlocked the front door and then placed her hand on the door jam, waiting for me to let go of her.

But I held her there, gently spinning her around so she looked at me. "Bella, I am not going to let you die," I took her face in mine and watched her reactions. "I've been reading up. Carlisle says there could be a way to save you."

Her eyes jumped from either of mine, back and forth, and then filled with tears. At first, I thought she would be elated, but she pushed out of my hands and shook her head, looking down at the concrete.

"No," I heard her say, and I took a step forward, concerned.

"Bella--"

"No." She interrupted firmly, finally looking up at me with red, tear-filled brown eyes. "Don't. You can't say stuff like that to me, Edward. You can't--just don't."

Irritation sparked inside me, and I felt it set clearly on my face. "What? You don't _want_ to get better?" Why wouldn't she want to get better. If there was just a chance, why wouldn't she even try?

She shoved her crippled hands into her hair, breathless air escaping her lungs. Then she dropped her hands and looked me straight in the eye in a way that made my blood run cold.

"Listen to me, Edward. I have been told I was going to die since I was _seven_ years old. Since then, I've adjusted my life so I would be alright with that. You can't spring this on me after eleven years. It's just not possible."

"Shut up," I said, staring down at my feet. I took a deep breath, steadying myself. Getting mad at her wasn't going to help anything. "What if it works, Bella?" I asked quietly, finally looking up at her through my lashes.

She lifted one of her hands to her lips, and the other to cup around her throat. Water swirled in her deep brown eyes, and I held myself back from holding her until her tears dissipated. I'm not sure how long we stood like that, completely frozen and silent.

But then she spoke through her fingers, her tears finally spilling over. Her words were slow, as to give me more time to take them in.

"Edward, remember when I was younger, and the doctors wanted me to get open-heart surgery? And remember when we didn't have enough money to pay for it?" She paused, and I nodded slowly, my eyes no longer watching her, but rather the day they said she had atrial fibrillation, the quivering of the heart muscles of the atria, instead of a coordinated contraction. They said it wasn't life-threatening, but that was over five years ago. How about now?

I saw her swallow before continuing. "Well, we have the money now. I'm going to Houston next week to get the Cox maze III done."

I rubbed my eyes, processing this. The Cox maze III was major surgery. It was open-heart, it required the doctors to slice up her heart, bypassing her blood through a machine instead to keep her alive on the table while they butchered that poor muscle. They would need to cut her entire chest open. My father being the head doctor in town, I knew what that meant and looked like.

The would need a crank, she would be put back together with wire, and wouldn't be able to leave the hospital for God knows how long.

Finally, I lifted my eyes to her. "I'm going with you, you know." Something sparked in her eyes, but it was gone before I could understand it. I wasn't going to let Bella leave here, and not be able to hug her before they wheeled her away to be cut and sawed and torn and put back together again.

Bella bit her lip, and rocked her head forward once. "Wednesday, three in the morning, and I'm going under at eleven." I hated how she said "going under," but agreed, and she turned to go into her house.

I stopped her. "Bella, please, just listen to what I've been reading." I begged, holding carefully onto her elbow so she couldn't flee and shut the door in my face. She closed her eyes, but didn't speak, so I told her. "Stem cells. And frataxin pills--"

"Don't you think I take enough drugs already?" She snapped, her eyes flashing open.

"I know, but listen to me, the doctors don't know what they're talking about."

Her stare was incredulous. "You mean you dad?"

I sighed. "Yes. Why haven't they given you frataxin supplements if that's what your body can't produce enough of? They're not going to give blood thinners to diabetics. They give them insulin. Frataxin pills can't hurt, Bella."

"I'll think about it," She said too quickly, and then she was gone, slipping through my fingers and behind her family's door.

~*~*~

Wednesday came too far too hastily. My father Carlisle had known about Bella's operation for two weeks, since of course he was the one to suggest it so many years ago. When I learned this, I almost socked him in the stomach. Why hadn't he told me?

But then I was standing outside the door of Bella's home, my high school backpack slung over one shoulder, a duffle bag of clothes in my left hand, and my eyes threatening to lock shut. At least we were going in Renee's care, and not Chief Charlie's cruiser.

I sat in the back seat with Bella, and she never once looked or talked to me as we backed out of the driveway. Suddenly my mother was running from my house, still in her nightgown that made my face flush six shades of pink, and stopped at Bella's door, knocking on the window and then opening the door before anyone could do anything about it. She wrapped her arms awkwardly around Bella, considering that Bella was strapped in, and sitting in this tiny compact car.

When Esme pulled away, she was misty-eyed. She held Bella's face in her hands and kissed her forehead. "I don't know really want to say to a person who's getting open-heart surgery, so I'm improvising." I contemplated groaning "_Mom_," but held my tongue for Bella's sake. "Be safe, and I love you, and I'll see you in a few weeks, right?"

"I love you, too, Esme, and I think two weeks," Bella leaned over and gave my mother another hug. Then Esme gave me a _look_ and I rolled my eyes.

She waved as we drove off.

The ride out of Constance was eerily silent. After thirty minutes, I found that Renee had fallen asleep in the passenger seat, and Charlie must've taken some sort of pill that kept college students awake to cram for finals. His eyes were as wide as saucers.

I looked over to Bella, and she was trying to stretch out her legs as much as she could, since Renee had forgotten how tall her daughter really was, and the seat was uncomfortably close to her knees. Sighing, I reached over and carefully slipped my hands under her calves, lifting her legs and turning her. I set her feet on my lap and smiled up at her. She weakly returned it, and I felt her muscles stretch along her legs.

She rested her head against the window and closed her eyes. She was asleep almost instantly.

I knew the ride wasn't going to be long, but I had brought a few books and magazines to occupy my time. I couldn't even concentrate on the first paragraph of the book I plucked from my backpack.

In the area were Bella had her feet on my legs, my skin hummed with a sort of electrical energy that I couldn't explain under my jeans. I had been with plenty of girls¾too many if you asked Bella -- and not one of them gave me this feeling. This buzz. And I wanted more. So much more.

Tossing the book down on the floor of the car, I decided it was alright to stare. Charlie -- though he had taken God knows how many No Dose -- was intent on staying on the right side of the highway, not his sleeping daughter. I, on the other hand, wanted to memorize Bella _now_, just in case she changed drastically after her surgery.

Her hair had been strung back in a high ponytail, the strands dangerously straight and tangling around her neck and shoulders. Her eyelids -- dusted with a very light blue eye shadow -- twitched with sleep, her lashes brushing against her high cheekbones. Her nose swooped gracefully to the little pucker between it and her plump lips. The little pink lines were slightly parted, a light snore escaping them. I licked my lips unconsciously.

Her chin was tucked close to her chest, and I hoped that when she woke she wouldn't be uncomfortable. My eyes moved downward.

She wore a low-necked blue shirt that simply clung to her, and I took notice of how her right collarbone was . . . _bigger_ than her left. It stuck further out, something I had never once saw before. Her silky pale skin would have a scar the next time I saw it without bandages, much like the stitches sewn into an autopsy patient on _CSI_.

Her clavicles lead me to her . . . cleavage. I swallowed. This wasn't something normal for best friends. I shouldn't be looking there. So I skipped down like that coward I was, to her stomach, flat even in the position she was sitting, curled against the door. My eyes followed the line to where I knew her bellybutton would be, around the swoop of her waist, and past her hips, across her thighs, the blue jeans she wore stretching perfectly over them. And then her calves, ankles, and feet, in flip-flops.

I carefully slid the cork thongs from her feet, trying not to wake her. Her toes curled, and I noticed how the nails were each painted a different color. I smiled.

My legs still hummed, and I wondered if she could feel it too, even in her sleep. It was subtle, but there, like the feeling I got after a run. It felt good and amazing, prickly and electric.

I wanted more of it. I wanted _all_ of it. Absently, my hand ran under Bella's left leg, the one closest to me. She stirred, a breathy moan escaping her lips. I froze.

Dear God, that was the single most erotic thing I had ever heard before in my life. That was when I realized that I didn't just _want_ more, I _needed_ more.

This was so wrong. It was wrong that I wanted to know what she looked like without that sinful blue shirt on¾I had let myself stare there for a while, now. Sure, I had seen Bella naked. We had the pictures in the bathtub to prove it. I'd slept in the same bed as her on sleepovers -- because her parents loved me so much, and they couldn't imagine anyone trying to take advantage of their dying daughter were the only reasons we were allowed to sleep over at each other's houses.

I found myself suddenly leaning over her, turning my body so I could squeeze between the back of the seat and her hip. I hooked my arm under her middle and moved her legs so they fell over the edge of mine. Her arm lifted and I stalled, hoping I hadn't woken her. But she only wrapped her arm around my shoulders, pulling me further up her body and even closer.

A shudder ran down my spine, but I ignored it. I took a deep breath and let my cheek lay on her chest, loving how soft she was. Every inch of her was silky, smooth, and made my skin tingle with that little buzz and hum. Her breasts were my pillows, and I closed my eyes, hugging her tightly to me.

I could not lose her. How could I live one day without this girl? I'd known her since the day she was born, only three months younger than I. She was my best friend. Practically everything I knew, she knew. I could never keep secrets from her. She just read me, while she was so different from every other ditz I had been with. I didn't understand her at all. And yet, I needed her.

I wasn't sure when she woke and found me crying on her, but her fingers brushed through my hair, her blunt nails soothing along my scalp. "Shh," she whispered into my hair, and something in my chest twisted. I wanted to look up at her, so show her I wasn't some pussy that cried over surgery, but the position we were in stopped me.

Charlie hadn't noticed that change I had made, from sitting a few feet away from his daughter, to laying with her. Renee was still asleep. I was crying on Bella's chest, and _she_ was comforting _me_, when she was the one who was dying and going in for major surgery in only a few hours.

"It'll be alright, you know?" She murmured above me, and I felt her lips move over my skin. "Everything's going to work out,"

I wished I could believe her.

* * *

**A/N:** Review, please! I worked hard on this chapter, and I hope it's alright.

I'm working on yet another story (just what I need, right?) and I'll let you guys know once I get it up. I want to get a few more chapters of _Remembering Sunday_ and _Don't Sell Your Heart_ before I upload it.

And for those of you only reading this story, check out DSYH, it's hot. I promise. ;D

Please review!

-R.I.


	4. A Final First

**A/N: **I wrote this chapter in about seven hours, from about six to one in the morning. Please understand that I'm tired as hell and don't feel like reviewing this, but I wanted to get it up. Thanks. **_Scratch this -- I'm not tired now. I forgot to upload this before I went to bed. That's how tired I was._**

**Credit:** Jess for her lovely part in this story. The movie _The Cake Eaters_, because it is simply amazing and where I first heard of Friedreich's Ataxia. It has Kristen Stewart in it and the way she moves is absolutely unbelievable.

**Disclaimer: **_Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Constance, Texas is a fictional town created by yours truly. I'm taking creative license on this story.

* * *

**Chapter Three: A Final First**

_**Isabella Swan—Age Eighteen**_

I thought about everything Edward Cullen had passed along to me. Every small word I had analyzed, I'd looked up every bit of information I could on it. Hope had bubbled through my veins for three days while I kept away from Edward. It seared under my skin, that horrible thing known as optimism keeping its cold hands locked around my throat.

Wednesday I put my foot down. I couldn't let this happen. There was no way I was going to allow myself to think these crazy ideas about a miracle cure. And even if this stem cell thing worked, I would either need _my_ stem cells from a child (because the ones in my spine obviously weren't going to help me, now were they?) or those of a perfect genetic match. There was no hope for me.

So at exactly ten fifty-seven, I made up my mind. There was no way I was going through with Edward's miracle cure.

~*~*~

I woke to a cold tear falling on my chest. Over and next to me was Edward, I wrapped in a cocoon of his arms and body. My neck hurt like a bitch, but Edward was crying. He shouldn't cry. He never cried. Not even when he broke his arm when he fell from the tree when we were ten, yelling down what he could see because I couldn't climb up.

God, that had been one of the scariest days of my life.

He was so close to me, all warm and soft and hard and just everything. _My_ Edward. I ran my hands through his silky auburn hair, sticking my nose in the unruly tresses that I loved so much. He smelled like soap and rain and his suntan lotion and boy. That musky scent that every woman loves—the real reason I would steal sprays of his cologne when I slept over, practically soaking my night shirt with it so I could keep his smell with me when I slept in my bed, too big for little ol' me, but too small for Edward to fit unless he wanted to be insanely close to me.

Maybe he did.

"It'll be alright, you know?" I whispered, loving how his hair tickled my lips and cheeks. "Everything's going to work out."

He took a deep breath and shuddered beneath me, pressing his face closer to me. I lifted my head and rested my chin above him, cupping his head in my hands and keeping him near me. Over my heart, where they would be cutting and replacing, clipping and rewiring.

My heart was the problem, not the muscle weirdness I had. Sure, I could one day be a complete vegetable, but what would ultimately kill me would be my heart. It had always been my heart.

Edward moved his head and I released him only slightly, keeping my fingertips tracing over his skin, the rough corners of his jaw where he hadn't shaved. He lifted his head and looked at me, his gorgeous green eyes sparkling with either tears or emotion. Or both.

"What's wrong?" I said, my words so quiet I couldn't hear them. The weight of his eyes was getting to me, sending my body into a strange and tight space, my fingers feeling as if they were about to burst from the skin around them. But Edward shook his head and raised himself onto his elbows so he was over me, his face only inches away. I could feel his breath fan over my face and it smelled like butter and mint.

His lips certainly _looked_ as smooth as butter, too.

A nervous thrill ran down my spine. I'd never been kissed. Not even a friendly kiss from my sister, not a kiss from Edward. I had never been taken to a dance, much to Alice's protests. I'd never been on a date. The closest male in my life besides my other brother and father was Edward.

Because what guy wanted to kiss a freak?

But here was Edward, the boy I'd known all my life, the boy who poked my bruises and asked if it hurt, and when I cried as he did so, he cried too. This was the boy who'd found a dove's nest with three eggs and pulled it down from the tree and brought them over to show me. This was the boy who used to eat dirt in my backyard, while I sipped from the hose, drinking mercury and metal and happy as ever.

That was when I realized that I had only been happy when Edward was there. He was the only one who really understood, though he had no idea what I went through. He could read everything he wanted to, but he just didn't _know_. I didn't care.

_I didn't care_.

I just wanted him to kiss me right at that very moment. And for a second I was sure our lips would meet finally, but at the last possible chance, he changed his course, and his lips hit my forehead instead.

Tears formed behind my eyelids, because it hurt far more than never expecting to be kissed, like I had been my whole life.

I placed my hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him up so I could sit again. I felt horrible, and Edward being so close wasn't going to help by any means. Edward looked at me inquisitively, but obeyed my request anyway, carefully helping me straighten out. He tried to get me to turn and look at him, but I shook his hand off of mind, flinging it back towards him, and pressed my forehead to the cool glass window. I closed my eyes and tried to get away.

There were numerous times four years ago that I would see an actress on TV or in a movie and wonder what her life must be like. When she woke up, was there someone there with her bathrobe and the bath already run? Did someone do her flawless makeup while she ate baked goods from the finest places? Did her boyfriend kiss her on the red carpet? Did his hand on her waist feel as good as I hoped it would one day for me (this was when I still let myself hope that someone would come along and sweep me off my feet for the remaining years of my life). Did he blow her mind every night with mindless sex?

How many times had I hoped that while I slept, my mind would somehow be transferred to her body, and I could simply live a different life? How many times had I just wanted to find Charlie's gun and tell them I'd be right back, and just get on with the early inevitable? How many times had I tasted the oil Charlie used to clean his guns, after I had taken the barrel from my mouth?

We arrived at the hospital too soon, and I just wanted to get away already. I knew I had to get checked in, vitals taken, hooked up to millions of machines, prepped and cleaned, knocked out, and then slit open. But I didn't want to go yet.

And, lucky me, the lesser of the three evils just happened to be the boy who had absolutely no clue.

Renee sprang from her seat to help me from the back, holding too tightly to my elbow. She placed my hand on the hood of the car like a kid and left my side to unload my things.

I could already feel the stares from everyone else around. This particular hospital in Houston seemed to be the busiest. There was a little girl with no hair staring, and I knew she went through so much more than I did; there was a woman beaming down at her newborn and I felt wrongful hatred towards both of them; a little boy with a teddy bear slipping from his tiny fingers had just stopped picking at his stitches on his side.

Edward was walking around towards me, and I decided I didn't want to be anywhere near him, so I took my hand off the car and stared shakily forward. One step, two steps, three—

And I hit the ground, landing _hard_, right on my ass, in front of every sick person in the fucking state.

"Bella!" I heard Renee gasp, and my parents were suddenly around me, helping me up.

"Are you alright?" Charlie asked, holding my arm like my mother.

Edward just stood at the front of the car, staring at me with unreadable eyes. And I stared back, sure my face read something along the lines of _This is how it is, Edward. I'm not getting any better, and my parents are going to drive me to my death, I swear it._

Renee—who had moved behind us and towards the trunk—spoke before I could respond to my father. "Alright, you're not going anywhere—even this damn hospital—without your wheelchair."

I whipped my head around, horror on my face. "Mom, I _don't need it yet_." I breathed, terrified now that I knew she had shoved the thing into the trunk.

"Bella, you're covered in bruises—"

"I know," I snapped back, "I'm the one who's dying, remember?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What did you just say?"

"I just don't need you reminding me all the time, Renee," I suddenly wanted nothing more than to get _away_ from her. I could feel the tension between everyone in our little happy group crackle between us in the air, but I walked forward with Charlie's help, right up to Edward. "Can you get me out of here for a while, please?" I asked.

"Bella—" Charlie started, his voice worried, fatherly, and comforting. He knew how little I could stand of Renee's ways, even if, in some part of my mind, I knew she only cared about me.

"Please, Dad," I begged, looking up at him, just pleading with him for me to go, just this time, before I had to get torn apart.

He sighed, contemplated it for a moment, and then passed me off to Edward, who nervously looked over our shoulders to my parents. Then he walked me carefully forward to the sidewalk, always so patient with my feet and legs and balance. I wobbled along, not even self conscious anymore. I'd lived with it for so long, that people could just go fuck off if they stared.

Once we rounded the corner into the hospital's walking trail, Edward started talking. At first I wasn't listening, only watching as a nurse sat with an elderly patient on a bench. The woman was chattering on about a trip to Montana she and her husband had taken the year before he died. And the damn nurse looked bored as hell. I didn't have it in me to glare daggers at her like I really wanted, but my blank stare must have triggered something inside that waste of human skin, and as her eyes went wide, she leaned closer the patient, asking a question and getting into the conversation.

". . . Bella? Are you even listening to me?"

I glanced up at Edward, whose eyes were amused an annoyed at the same time. "No," I shook my head, looking straight forward again.

"Well, I was telling you about . . . what I suggested the other day," He lifted his free hand and rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding my now questioning gaze.

I sighed, careful of a lifted piece of the sidewalk beneath our feet. "Okay, Edward, I'm just going to say it. I'm not going to get it done, alright? I don't want to do it. It's not going to even work unless I have a perfect genetic match, and I really doubt they'd take any of my immediate family, because they're most likely carriers for Friedreich's." Renee and Charlie both were, but it would be my luck to find out that both Emmett and Alice were completely recessive-gene-free of FA.

Edward stopped and spun me towards him. He bent his head and stared me straight in the eye, his gaze strong and fierce that it made me flinch back slightly. "Bella, I am _not_ going to let you die, alright?" He shook my shoulders slightly, trying to force me to understand. "I'm not going to be able to just watch you fall apart. I've been doing it for too, long, Isabella. I'm tired of it. It's sick! And answer me this, Bella, what if it _does_ work?"

"Then I won't have a clue what to do with my fucking life, Edward!" I yelled back, bursting at the seams. His green orbs widened at my outburst, not used to this side of me. To be honest, neither was I. "I don't have any plans anymore, because what if I make plans, and I don't make it that far? Even Charlie and Renee don't have expectations for me anymore! _And you shouldn't either_!" I shoved his shoulders, causing him to release me.

I stumbled backwards into a chain link fence, grateful that I didn't have to fall again. I reached back instinctively to catch myself on the holes, but my fingers slipped and I slid down the metal to the ground. Instead, I pressed my palms on my knees, staring flames at my crippled feet clad in Chuck Taylors. Shaking my head, I felt the tears ooze from the edges of my eyes without my permission.

"Oh, Bella. . . ." Edward whispered, falling to his knees in front of me in the little patch of grass.

Looking away, I forced the one word from my throat, "_Don't_,"

"You don't get it, Bella," he continued quietly, his words little wisps against my skin, little splashes of ice water after a shower that had been too hot. "I'm _not_ going to let you die without being able to live. What the fuck have you done so far other than take pills, stick yourself with needles, and fall? I hate seeing you like this, Bella. Look at me, dammit!" I had turned my eyes away, not wanting to hear this. "I'm pouring my fucking heart out to you, Bella. If there's a chance that you'll be able to _live_ for _once_, why won't you _take it_?"

I took a deep breath. If he was being brutally honest, it was my turn, too.

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don't _want_ to live?"

~*~*~

_**Edward Cullen—Age Eighteen**_

I felt like I had just signed for a ton of bricks to be dropped on me. Her sentence hit me like a freight train, the air rushing out of my lungs.

"W-What?" My voice sounded foreign to even my ears.

I couldn't see. The world had been drowned, the water blocking out all sounds but _her_ voice. Her incredible voice, though breathless and slurred, that I had grown used to. And it was _the one_ sound I honestly had no interest in hearing right now.

"Edward, I've been through enough," she gasped, her tears falling down her flustered cheeks. "I just want to get it all over with."

"But . . . why?"

"Spend a day with Friedreich's Ataxia in your DNA, and you'll understand,"

I couldn't feel, my hands were numb, my breathing coming in strange bursts and gasps. "Bella, how am I supposed to live without you?"

And then she smiled, leaning forward to run her palm over my cheek. I closed my eyes and leaned into her warm touch, feeling how her fingers were bent when they should be flat, smelling the light scent of her fruity bath wash. "It'll be alright, Edward. You're going to grow up and marry some girl and you're going to have little Edwards running around—" she gave me a laugh "—God forbid that they'll be anything like their father."

I shook my head, grabbing her wrist and tugging her arm out straight in front of me. I turned it so the soft flesh was facing towards the sky. I traced the blue and purple veins under her translucent skin with the tips of my fingers on my right hand, holding her wrist still in my left so she couldn't pull away. I made it to the crease of her elbow, where the veins abruptly stopped before picking up further up her arm. I stopped at the center of her arm, spinning circles on her thin skin, wondering what happened to the veins that had been here.

"The nurses at the hospital aren't the most competent people. You should never dig for a vein," she explained, lifting a finger and pressing it to her skin. I only nodded, keeping my face calm and placid.

I continued up her arm where they picked up again, disappearing under her blue shirt, spreading like spider webs along her chest and the arches of her breasts. The colored lines on this girl were graceful, something you would see in an art gallery of some famous painter. They thinned out on her chest, only the thicker ones visible. A few continued up her throat, but not one showed on her beautiful face save the few between her brows and eyelashes.

I was so close to her now, her knees on either side of my ribcage, her wrist resting on my shoulder and still up-turned. So close that when she looked up at me with her tortured, tear-touched brown eyes, I could make out the lighter flecks of gold in them. She looked so sad, so miserable. My right hand followed the blue and purple trails from her throat to her jaw, and then I pressed my fingers behind her neck, where some of the shorter hairs had been left out from her pony tail.

Leaning in, I watched her with hooded eyes until she closed hers, and then I pressed my lips to her mouth ever so softly.

The feeling that ebbed through my blood was like nothing I had ever felt before. This wasn't those open-mouthed kisses that were usually my first drunken lip-lock with a girl. It was slow, it _was_ my first kiss. With Bella Swan.

Kissing Bella was like jumping in the sea after stripping your clothes off. My body was suddenly alive again, every inch humming and tingling like it had in the car, only tenfold. Her lips were soft against mine, forming gently around mine, moving like she knew how I would move. She tasted like milk chocolate and salt and girl, and the feeling I had on the drive came rushing back, swirling around my head with a heaviness that frightened me.

I leaned over her, running my hands down the length of her body until I found her waist. I lifted her up so her mouth was over mine, her back still firm against the fence. Suddenly I was forceful, still angry about the information she had just shared with me. I forced her lips open, not caring if she was ready or not. I held onto her arms, holding her away while pressing myself closer to her. I reached behind her head and pulled the band out of her hair, the mahogany tresses falling around out faces, concealing out acts from the people around us, if there were any.

She broke away to gasp for air, her mouth in a wide "O," her eyes just as wide and without a tear in sight. I growled, attacking her throat instead, maneuvering myself so I could lay her down on her back and press her into the grass. I crawled over her thin little body, nipping at her collarbones and pulse. Bella panted in my ear, running her flat palms under my shirt and up my shirt. I had never been more turned on in my life, but I had to stop.

I _had_ to stop _this_.

I pulled away, holding her face between my hands. Her hot hands still stayed on the planes of my chest, causing that terrific hum to spread all over. "Bella," I panted, peppering her face with kisses, "I'm _not_ going to let you die, do you hear me?" I nibbled on her earlobe, the outer shell, and licked along her throat.

It took her a moment to take exactly four deep breaths to even speak. "Yes," she sighed, tipping her head back to give me better access.

"Please take the chance, Bella, _please_," I whispered into her ear, my mind half focusing on not tearing her clothes off here, right off the path, and just screwing her until she screamed my name.

_Well, that thought didn't help anything_.

"Yes, Edward," she turned her face and nipped at the skin of my throat and neck. "But we have to go, or I'm not going to make it through the surgery,"

I sighed, wrapping my arms around her middle and lifting her up so she was in my lap. I buried my face in her shoulder, taking deep breaths of her scent, memorizing this, too, and not just how she looked. She ran her hands through my hair, mussing it up even more. I chuckled into her skin and pulled away to give her a chaste kiss. Then I stood with her legs wrapped around my waist, earning a fit of laughter to leave her throat. She tipped her head back, and I wondered briefly if it was voluntary or if her muscles were so weak that at a certain point, it just fell back.

I walked Bella back to the hospital front, holding onto her waist and wrist so she wouldn't fall. She seemed buoyant on her crooked feet, a stupid smile on her lazy lips. I checked her in and wouldn't leave her side—except when she changed into the gown, and I caught a glimpse of her as she scampered back to her bed. She had kept her boy shorts on instead of running around butt naked.

Her parents were nowhere to be seen. They hadn't shown since I had taken Bella off for a walk. Bella remained silent in her bed, the monitors fanning out her heartbeat. And I watched her from the chair next to her bed as she stared out the window, her eyes unfocused. Occasionally she would smile, and I would start to ask, but each time I just held my tongue. Sometimes she would frown, and I would kiss it away, leaning over and pressing my lips lightly to hers. I don't know how long later it was when I finally worked up the courage to ask her.

"Will you really do it?" I took her hand in mine, smoothing her fingers out over mine.

She rolled her head to look at me. "Sure," she muttered, glancing down at our hands. "If I can find a match." Bella tacked on, sighing. She ran her hand over her face, the needles tugging on her skin.

Something clicked inside me. I stood suddenly, leaning over her and kissing her forehead. "I'll be back before you go through those doors, Bella," I whispered against her skin, moving my lips to hers. I held there for longer than necessary, holding her cheek in my hand. I didn't want to let her go, but for now I had to.

"Don't leave," she whispered as I lined up our noses and rested my forehead against hers. "Please, Edward," her throat seemed clogged, and she fisted a weak hand in my shirt. I let out a heavy breath, wishing I could stay, wishing I didn't have to go. But if I wanted her for longer than I could have her now, I had to leave.

"I promise I'll be back," I whispered, kissing her again and again. "But I've got to do something,"

"Why _now_?" She cried, tears budding from her eyes. I shook my head against hers, our noses rubbing together. "There's no one here. You can't leave me,"

I sighed, closing my eyes. "Where else am I gonna go?" I asked.

She hesitantly released my shirt, and I straightened up. "Why?" Bella asked again, reaching out for me halfheartedly.

"I'm going to go see if we match,"

I kissed her once more, touched her knuckles to my lips, unthreaded our fingers, and turned and walked out the door, not glancing back because I knew that if I did, I would run back and probably climb in that bed with her. I walked down the hall and wondered how in the fuck I could even think I was a match for a stem cell transplant for my best friend.

* * *

**A/N:** Now, I'm going to go snuggle up to my little stuffed animal cat Cuddles, my real cat Catsa (Kaht-sa, and it means calico in Czech) and go TO. SLEEP! I'm so tired I can't see straight. **_Cancel that, I forgot to upload this last night so now I _can_ see straight. But yes, I did snuggle with my two kitties._**Hope you guys enjoyed. Thanks for reading.

Please review!

-R.I.


	5. Judgment Day

**A/N:** Whew, this took a while. And now it's one AM, and my dad's mad because we have to go to the Social Security Department tomorrow and get my card. And he thinks he's going to wake me up early! -Scoffs-

**_Sorry about the other update, I made a mistake._**

**Playlist:** "Wonderwall" - Oasis. It fits perfectly for the end, just letting you know.

**Credit: **Jess for her lovely part in this story.

**Disclaimer: **_Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Constance, Texas is a fictional town created by yours truly. I'm taking creative license on this story.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Judgment Day**

_**Isabella Swan - Age Eighteen**_

To say that Edward Cullen hadn't just influenced my way of thinking would be an understatement. To say that he'd just taken my breath away would be an understatement. As I changed from my clothes to the gown, I couldn't help the blush the crept into my cheeks, bringing my hands up to cover my face from myself in the little mirror and running my hands through my hair, pulling the ponytail from it.

_Holy freaking shit_.

He just kissed me. And, okay, that wasn't a completely an innocent first kiss - it had tongue, come on - and I knew that Edward's lips hadn't been kissed before (a thought that made me grimace). But the feeling that he gave me sent my body from zero to sixty in seven seconds. He made me feel amazing. He made me feel . . .

_Alive_.

Like I deserved to be here, and not just struggling to maintain my composure every second. Alive, like I wanted to feel that again, that amazing twist in my stomach, the breathlessness that caused me to gasp and claw for air. I touched my forehead again, taking a deep breath to steady myself - both physically and mentally because I was sure my legs were going to give out because I was so lightheaded.

Edward sat next to me while I readied myself for what I was about to do. I wouldn't know how long it would take for it to not hurt to breathe, for myself to heal enough to think straight. I wondered briefly if they would keep me knocked out for a while, and when I was loopy from all the pain medications, I wondered if they would find a stem cell donor.

I _wondered_. I did not hope.

He asked me if I would really go through with it, and I smiled as I stared out the window, knowing he couldn't see. When I turned by head to look at him, his brilliant green eyes were shimmering in the gray light from outside, and I simply fell more in love with him.

That's right, I was in love with Edward Cullen. I probably had been for my entire life, and just never really realized it.

"Sure," I said, peering down at our intertwined hands. They felt like puzzle pieces together, mine fitting perfectly inside his. "If I can find a match," Because _it_ wouldn't happen unless there was a matching donor.

I would do it to feel how I did near the path again, just for a moment. I would give anything for him to kiss me like that again, like he wanted me. I felt normal, primal and, _human_ for the first time in my entire life.

And then he was leaving me, promising he would be back with his lips inches away from mine. I felt my heart sputter inside my chest, the monitors reading the unfamiliar beat, at the thought of him leaving my side. He said he would be here again before I left for surgery, but I just couldn't bring myself to accept his promise. What if he didn't make it? Surely I couldn't go under without a hug from my Edward.

"Where else am I gonna go?" He tried to assure me, his forehead resting on mine with our noses lined up. My death-hold on his shirt loosened, mainly because my fingers were getting tried from keeping the same, stressed position. He stood, much to my dismay, straight again.

I reached for him, for any part of him. "Why?" I asked.

"I'm going to go see if we match,"

The kiss he gave me was quick and simple, turning and leaving me with a dumbfounded look on my face, shock written across my forehead.

Match. As in stem cell match. That would be the only thing he would be worried about right now.

But honestly, there was no way in Hell that Edward could be a match for me. And if he was, it would be a fucking miracle. Wasn't that what my life was, though? A miracle. Lucky me, I hadn't been able to pull that damn trigger all those times, and allowed myself to live, to be able to be kissed, to be able to perhaps be given a chance at a normal life. Normal, that was something I was definitely not.

Never have been. Almost certainly never would be - never _could_ be - just because of my genetics.

I sighed, rolling my body towards the window and rubbing my cheek into the scratchy fabric of the hospital pillow covers, letting my face heat up with a blush for no apparent reason. I curled my hands under my chin, the most comfortable position I could get them in, and sighed, closing my eyes. I let my mind wonder to wherever it wanted to go.

And that place was Edward Cullen. It had always been Edward.

~*~*~

_**Isabella Swan - Age Thirteen**_

_It was cold, so very, very cold. Her breath made clouds in front of her as she hugged her books to her chest. How did Texas even get this old? Even her thick jacket couldn't rid the chill from her bones. Like that feeling you get when you wake up and it's nine minutes before school starts, you just know that it's going to be a bad day._

_Somehow Isabella Swan knew this as she checked both ways at the last block on her trek home from the library. It wasn't that far, but the walk had seemed to take forever. Everything took an amazing amount of time, an amazing amount of patience, and an amazing amount of effort just to get completed. And the sum of these tasks Isabella just did not have today._

_So she grumbled to herself, wishing she had a partner to at least talk to as she walked home, and stepped off the curb with more care than the next twelve-year-old._

_And suddenly, Edward Cullen was there, scooping her up from behind and hauling her quickly across the street. She squealed, slapping his chest with a weak hand, but he wasn't laughing. Rather, his face was etched with fright and worry. Looking over his shoulder, she caught the glimpse of a shiny blue van speeding across the stop walk, where she had once been just a few moments ago._

_Edward reached the other side and stared down at her, but didn't put her down on her feet. "Can't you even see in front of you?" he spat, his green eyes dark and angry. I flinched, and his arms slackened, letting her feet plant themselves on the concrete._

"_Sorry," she muttered, readjusting her hold on her books._

"_Just watch out next time, Bella." His words was as cold as the air around them, hanging like the fog around town. Turning on his heel, he walked in the opposite direction of their homes, and towards a leggy blonde that just had to be a sophomore._

_An awkward Isabella Swan stood and watched as he wrapped his arm around her waist. And as they walked off he leaned over and kissed her._

_Isabella ran home, falling twice and tearing the poor books up, icicle tears staining her face. How could he be so cruel, and just after she had just told him that she was dying? When she got home, it was empty, like it usually was. Emmett was probably with Rosalie - who was still taller than him, a major hit to his ego that was as big as he was. Alice was running around spending money. Renee and Charlie were . . . Somewhere, doing grownup stuff._

_His gun was there, so he wasn't at work. It was Sunday, that's right. Wouldn't today, the day of Family and God, be an amazing day to take a bullet to her head? And only three months after her thirteenth birthday. Dropping her books, she tugged it from the holster on Charlie's work belt, only to find it unloaded when she pulled the trigger, the barrel stuck between her teeth._

_When she placed it back in its rightful spot, sobbing because she _didn't want to die, she didn't want to die_, and had come so close to doing something insanely stupid, there was a note inside the gun's home, and she pulled it out with shaky fingers._

_Do you really think I would have left a loaded gun  
__in the house when I found lip gloss on the barrel?  
__And you and I both know that Alice doesn't wear  
lip gloss. -- Dad_

_She sobbed because he knew. She sobbed because he hadn't done anything about it, except a note, where he knew she would find sobbed because she had nothing better to do than constantly shove that gun in her mouth and almost pull the trigger, and when she finally got the courage to finally end it all, Charlie had beat her to it._

~*~*~

_**Edward Cullen - Age Eighteen**_

My foot tapped anxiously as I waited for the results. There was a cotton ball taped to the inside of my elbow, where I just knew a bruise would form, and I wondered for a split second if the incompetent nurse who had taken _my_ blood had also been the one to completely ruin Bella's veins. It wouldn't surprise me.

Rubbing my hands over my face, I tried to relax by sitting back in the plastic chair I had decided to perch myself in. There was no way I was going to sit with Bella while I waited for a "yes" or "no" on whether or not I could give her a chance at life. I wouldn't be able to be in the same room as her if it came back as nay.

Especially what I had done earlier, just a few moments after they had drawn my blood. It was an honest mistake - I was lightheaded from the procedure. Oh, who was I kidding? I was perfectly aware of what I was doing when it all went down.

I'd walked down the hall, into the elevator, wishing I could rip off that damn cotton from my arm, and rode down to the lobby. I stumbled my way out the sliding glass doors, and around to the lawn, where I rubbed my eyes and then fell to my knees, too exhausted to hold myself up anymore. I felt around in my pocket and pulled out the little plastic baggy holding the sugar cookie the nurse gave me. I pulled it from the bag and sat back on my haunches in the grass, nibbling on the edge.

Yes, Edward Cullen ate a cookie like a little kid after getting stuck four times with a goddamn needle. So sue me.

And then she was there. Legs that stretched on for miles and had a California tan, strawberry blonde hair that fell around her shoulders in sausage curls. A sly lion-like smile spread over her thin face.

"Tanya," I said, and she grinned wider, showing white teeth. It always grossed me out that she had freakishly long and sharp K-9s, mainly because it hurt like a bitch. She _really_ liked to bite.

"Well, it's a good thing you remember me, honey," she giggled, holding her fingers over her thick lips. Tanya was attractive beyond belief, but she was oddly proportioned, and I used to wonder if she never finished growing, though she was already three inches taller than myself. And she still loved her hot pink stilettos, I noticed. "So what have you been up to?" Tanya asked, holding a hand out to me.

I took it and stood, feeling short. I pursed my lips, considering whether or not I should tell her about Bella. Tanya hadn't been the _friendliest_ person to Bella throughout life, always one to stick her nose up and purposefully bump into the poor girl. Thinking back, when it would happen around me . . . I wouldn't do anything. Guilt flooded my veins, my shoulders slumping forward.

Along with the guilt, I had the urge to simply punch Tanya in the face, but I knew that would do nothing now. She had graduated two years ago, going off without a second glance at our little town. How could she be so mean to Bella, someone who obviously was sick?

I blew out a breath, closing my eyes to keep my anger in place. "Actually, Bella's getting heart surgery today," I lifted my chin, refusing to be ashamed of myself.

Tanya's eyes bugged, her jaw dropping with an audible _pop_. "Isabella Swan? Oh dear, what happened?"

"Nothing," I spat, "She's sick,"

"Oh, right," she said matter-of-factly. "Well, since I'm here--" Tanya bent suddenly, pressing her lips to mine, her hands locked behind her back like some little kid. She was familiar, tasting like fruit and juice, always so sweet and tropical. And like the dumbass I am, I lifted my hands and cupped her face and kissed her until I couldn't taste her anymore, and Bella's face was suddenly behind my eyelids, tear-stained and hurt.

I shoved Tanya away, her shoes clipping against the sidewalk cement. "What's wrong Edward?" She asked sweetly, her eyes wide and frightened.

"I-I . . . I can't do this," and I walked off, brushing her off and heading back into the hospital. Bless her, she didn't follow me.

And that was how I ended up in the waiting room, feeling guilty and shitty and like I needed to seriously get some sort of drug to calm me to fuck down, or I was going to jump on the next doctor that walked passed me and demand to know whether or not I was a match for my best friend.

Best friend didn't sound right anymore. Now that I'd kissed her, she seemed like so much more to me. I just didn't know what. She wasn't my girlfriend - even that title seemed inadequate - and she definitely wasn't just a friend.

Our relationship was strange. I'd read so many books before - mainly ones that Esme had left behind on the nightstands after she was finished reading them, and I found out exactly _why_ people read those little paperbacks - and all the ones that had kids growing up together . . . _it was just different_. God, Bella's life was so fucked up, we never got a chance to make those memories that those fictional kids have. We never got to ride bikes together, I never went to a ballet recital of hers, and she could never make it to the band concerts of mine, when I decided it would be a good idea to play trumpet. I'd heard about the kids who grew up together and had their first kiss together just because they wanted to get it over with and they were both there.

The only thing remotely close to that was only a couple things we did as young kids. One was the whole bath thing that our parents just thought was _hilarious._ The next was the sleepovers, because she would replace my teddy bear (yes, Edward Cullen had a fucking teddy bear, and that's Mr. Snuggles to you. Thanks, Mom) at night, almost squished to my chest because she was so warm and so _real_ and so soft.

If I said I hadn't been a complete creep and Peeping Tom, I would be lying. Not recently, oh no, of course not. It had been right before she told me what was happening with her body. Just at that time that I was noticing that my best friend was a _girl_ and girls were _nice_. I particularly liked her Sunday church dress when Renee would still take her kids. The thing was yellow and just beautiful on her, ending just below her knee and it had lace and God, it just hugged her, even if she didn't have the body she did now, and she would wear a silver bracelet with it and five rings total on her fingers, and they would wink in the dusty light, and she'd smile at me and tug on my long tie and I would have done anything to follow her home or lead her behind that church and just be with her, or do things that I wasn't aware of back then, and I even knew what color her bra was under it because the blue straps were too loose on her and she didn't know how to tighten them or something and they'd fall down her arm and I'd be just too eager to reach over and slip them back up under that pretty yellow fabric.

I would sneak upstairs to her room before supper at her house on Saturdays when I was nine and ten and squish myself in the corner right by her door, because the railing overlooked the living room and anyone could look up and see me. She didn't close her door all the way back then, and I could just nudge it and it would be open just enough so I could see her mirror on her closet door, and I would watch her change from her day clothes to her evening clothes, and sometimes I would get a show. She'd sigh and look at herself, poking at a freckle on her stomach, and turn, covering her breasts with one arm and inspecting her ass instead. She wore bikini-cut panties and I once caught her trying on her first thong, only to grimace and shred it, stuffing it deep into her top drawer.

I had been a sick little boy to do that to his best friend, but I didn't care. I still didn't care. She had the fucking figure of a model, and at the same time, she didn't. Bella was not an object of lust for me, she was a . . . I didn't know what the fuck she was to me. When we were younger, we took baths together. We were like siblings when we were younger. Now . . . I just didn't know. I'd kissed her. But I'd kissed a lot of girls, it didn't mean anything to me.

Well, it didn't _usually_ mean anything to me.

Bella was like a breath of fresh hair. She was untouched, pure, practically an angel.

And I wanted nothing more than to ripple that damn water.

It hit me in waves.

_I._

_Loved._

_Bella._

_Swan._

~*~*~

_**Isabella Swan - Age Eighteen**_

I knew he wouldn't keep his promise. I fucking _knew_ _it_. That was the worst part. I had given Edward some credit - he _was_ trying to save my life (or what was left of it) - and counted the minutes until he would make it back.

I knew somewhere in this hospital, the room was already prepped, the cables and wires and tubes being untangled, the different scalpels and cranks and needles and clamps were being carefully unpackaged by a person in latex gloves, careful of the diamond edges; somewhere a doctor was preparing for my surgery with probably a small cup of whiskey, and maybe he'd be calling his wife or girlfriend or boyfriend or who-the-fuck-ever and tell them he'd call him once he was out of surgery; somewhere there was an entire team of cardiologists, anesthesiologists, and nurses to keep track of every monitor reviewing what would happen in the next hours; and maybe my parents were sitting in the car downstairs, talking about what my life - _their lives_ - would be like if I hadn't been born with this.

When the nurse walked in, a friendly, comforting smile on her dark face, and said it was time to get prepped, I had a sudden hatred towards Edward. She noticed this on my face, sitting me up further, tucking in the sheets and lifting the rails on the left side of my bed. "What's wrong, honey?" She asked in a heavy southern accent.

I sighed as she started pulling me from the room, and down the hall. "He's just . . . frustrating." I said.

"Ah," she nodded, switching places so she was behind me and pushing me. Another nurse took the left rail by my feet, and then a male nurse opposite her. "Well, I can try and track 'im down and try and get 'im to you before you're put under?"

I shook my head, waving my hand dismissively, the tubes tugging nauseatingly on my skin. "Thank you, though,"

And then he was there, coming up on my left side suddenly. "Nice hat," he said, and readjusted the hairnet on my head. I just stared at him. "What?"

"You barely made it," I whispered, and he looked down, his knuckles white on the railing.

"Yeah, you two, make it quick, alright?" The nurse said over my head. "You're going to have to say goodbye soon,"

Edward's head snapped up, his eyes suddenly furious. "Don't you _ever_ fucking say that!" He lashed out, and the nurses slowed quickly to a stop in the middle of the hallway.

"Edward --"

"I'm _never_ going to say fucking goodbye, you got that?" I could feel the nurse cringe over me, and was suddenly scared he was going to be taken away from me. Again.

"_Edward!_" I screamed this time, slamming a fist down on his fingers latched onto the railing.

"OW! _Fuck_. What, Bella!?" He looked down at me, shaking his hand, rubbing his knuckles, and his eyes suddenly softened at my look.

I swallowed, lowering my voice. "They mean for the surgery,"

"Oh," He looked down, a sudden blush covering his cheeks. "Sorry, ma'am,"

The woman gave a grunt in reply and started pushing my bed again.

"Now, what do you have to say for yourself. You barely made it. Where were you?" I asked.

"We match,"

I stared at him, unable to soak in his words. "Huh?"

"_We match_, Bella," He spoke slowly, making sure the words reached my ears. "I don't know how the fuck it happened, but we match, and I'm going to go upstairs and have the stick a long ass needle in my back and get you some stem cells, and you're going to get better, and you're going to grow old, and one day we're going to get married - like I _said_ when we were like, six - and you're going to have lots of kids, and you're going to grow old with me, alright?"

I tried to process what he was saying, ignored the part about me having kids. "Did you just kinda maybe possibly propose to me?" I squeaked, blinking, the lights overhead suddenly blurred together with water.

"Yeah, but Bella --" he paused, leaning in close, "-- _we match_."

And then he stopped walking, and I lifted myself and turned to look at him, reaching out over the back of my bed, shoving the nurse out of the way accidentally but I didn't really care, and he grabbed my hand. I tugged him along for a moment, squeezing his hand as hard as I could, but I had to let go, because it hurt too much and he'd stopped following me again.

I lifted my left hand - the one without needles - and pressed it to my lips, letting it down and blew him a kiss. He did the same, holding the fist that had caught my kiss to his heart.

I waved, and he was gone.

~*~*~

_It is really bright. There are people talking, and my cheeks are wet. It gets even brighter as another light overhead is turned on. I feel them removing my gown, exposing every part of me that no one but my parents and Edward have seen before. I'm bare in front of a doctor I don't know, in front of ten other people who I will never know. They tape my nipples and cover my bottom half. I'm not asleep yet, but I don't think they know that. Someone wipes this really cold and smelly liquid all over my chest, leaving me with goosebumps. I want to scream, because this is my Judgment Day, and there's Jesus and Satan somewhere, deciding my fate. Fire rushes through my veins and I know I'm going to Hell. I'm dying, I can't breathe, God has even given up on me. What had I done so horribly in my life that I must burn in Hell for all eternity? I cannot hear, and suddenly smell is gone, and everything is on fire, someone is shooting lava through my veins. Someone is slapping my face, someone is tearing the mask from my mouth. I swallow, my sight flickering around, blurry, watery, as if I'm looking through a thousand sheets of plastic, and they press the mask to my face again, like they did before, and I can suddenly hear again, and they're saying that I should blow up the balloon by my feet, but they won't let me sit up to see the fucking balloon, so I don't know if I'm even doing it right. No one's here. I'm going to die, and no one who I thought was close to me cares. I wonder if Renee and Charlie wanted this to happen. I wonder if they wanted to just get me away so they could start living again. I want that boy more than anything. I want his hand, I want him to kiss me like he did, and I want him to lick my throat and bite at my skin, and I want him between my legs and I want him whispering in my ear that everything's going to be alright, that there's nothing to be scared of. I want him to be with me, even though I can't imagine the world with him. I want him to be with me as I die. My world is suddenly very small, the people around magnified, the walls made of lead and I can touch them, I know it, and I lift my hand to pull the mask from my face so I can breathe air and not gas and so I can be myself again and hopefully not die. They tug my weak fingers away from the mask and keep doing it because I keep trying and I'm not going to stop. I want to flip off my mother and I was to shoot my dad in the foot and I want to push Edward to the ground and I want to punch every person in this fucking room for doing this to me. I want to be covered again, and I'm suddenly scared that I'm going to be raped, my body buried and never found until someone actually gives two shits about me and figures that I've been buried in the backyard of my own home this whole time. And I'm crying, and I'm screaming, I'm thrashing as much as I can. I know I should be good. I'm here with Jesus and Satan, I should at least be respectful. I wonder if Jesus is trying to steal me back, and I take a big breath, and people are holding onto my feet and ankles as I scream and beg and just wish for it all to stop and be over, but it's never going to be over, I'm in Hell, it's going to be like this forever. I stop suddenly, unable to control myself, and I think they think I'm finally asleep, but I'm not, it's just foggy and I can't feel, but I can see, even if my eyes are rolling in the back of my head. Someone closes my eyes and tapes my eyes shut, and I feel pressure all over me, popping my ears and making my eyes run. Or am I really crying? I don't know. And now someone's cutting me, I know it, I can feel it, it just doesn't hurt. They start right in the middle of my chest, at the start of my sternum, dragging the blade to the end of the flat bone. Then they cut over the collarbones, and they peal back my skin, I think. I still think they think I'm asleep. I try and suck in air, but I can't, because there's a tube there, too, and I don't have to breathe, I'm being fed pure oxygen. And I die just after I hear the doctor says something about getting the saw._

* * *

**A/N:** If you've never been in surgery, it feels about like that. When I went under the knife, I thought I was dying. Very scary for a six-year-old, but I'm sure it's no different, whatever your age is.

Please review!

-R.I.


	6. Impossible Dreams

**A/N:** I will have to say that my favorite reviewer so far is _Shanda_. My dear, you're absolutely amazing. I look forward to more of your reviews. Thank you so much.

And, because of Shanda, you get something special I wasn't originally going to put into the story. I had thought about it, but decided against it. She changed my mind again. So thank her. ;D

But all of my reviewers are amazing! I adore you all and look forward to every review I get with anxious fingers. (Seriously, you should see my face when I go to my Yahoo! and I see people have reviewed - I'm ecstatic.)

So, thank you. Now, read on!

**Credit: **Jess for her lovely part in this story.

**Disclaimer: **_Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Constance, Texas is a fictional town created by yours truly. I'm taking creative license on this story.

* * *

**Chapter Five: Impossible Dreams**

_**Edward Cullen - Age Twelve Almost Thirteen**_

_He had been secretly watching her since she'd left the library as he walked with this ditsy, annoying-as-hell blonde, back to her place. He didn't know this girl's name and didn't care, he just wished to get it over with and get home already. Esme was going to be pissed if he wasn't home for dinner before five. Checking his watch, he groaned internally. Twenty minutes. It probably ten minutes for this bimbo to get her clothes off, for him to screw and leave, and then seven to get back home with three minutes to spare. And that was if she shut her trap._

_Alright, so he hadn't talked to Bella much since she told him she was dying. Who would blame him? He'd discovered the wonders of his mother's hidden liquor under the kitchen sink, behind all the cleaning bottles. Dr. Cullen and his wife had arrived home to their twelve-year-old son, passed out on the kitchen tile, the shattered pieces of the bottle around him, his head bleeding from when he fell onto the glass shards. At least they'd made it back just before he started puking._

_Then three days later, this kids named James spread the word that a guy was selling hits of acid for five bucks down near the lake after school. Edward bought seven._

_So yeah, he'd avoided the girl. Four weeks ago, he'd decided to fuck it all and pay some chick twenty bucks to have sex with him. She'd left disappointed, wet from the sprinklers, telling him to work on not blowing his load too soon. And so he did, of course._

_With every girl in high school he knew. By December he was a pro, the girls spreading the word about this twelve year old cutie that was better than the football team._

_But now there was Bella Swan, and he remembered why he had stayed her friend for so long. For one, he really did care about her. And she was obviously upset, because she hadn't looked left again like she usually did, and didn't see the giant blue van barreling down the street. He wasn't that far, and without a word to the sophomore who should have really been in fourth grade, he was running, sudden dread flooding him._

_What if he didn't make it? What if she was hit, _right in front of him_. What would he do?_

_But then she was there, and he was scooping her up, and he was able to make it across the street without fatality. Anger surged through his veins as he set her upright again. "Can't you even see in front of you?" He growled, so angry that he'd come close to losing her._

"_Sorry," She fumbled with her books, he clipped out a 'be careful', and strode back to the easy lay, who was staring, wide-eyed at him._

_He didn't look back._

~*~*~

_**Edward Cullen - Age Eighteen**_

_She is laying flat on her back, pale as a ghost. If it wasn't for the monitors signaling her heartbeat and the steady, artificial rise and fall of her chest, I would think she is dead. It wouldn't be too hard to believe, considering the butterfly stitching on her chest._

_Along with her IV and pain medication hangs a bag of my stem cells, a strange milky pink liquid in a clear plastic IV bag. My lower back hurts like a bitch, but it will go away with Tylenol. Bella's going to be in here for a while, in pain, recovering._

_The nurse walks in just as Bella stirs. "Hey, honey," the woman says, touching Bella's hand comfortingly. "Don't worry, I'll get you asleep again right now,"_

_Bella's talking, her voice a breathy whisper, and I have to lean in close just to hear a sound from her lips. "What's she saying?" I ask the nurse, who is closer to the girl laying, barely conscious in the hospital bed. Bella looks as if she's repeating herself, over and over again, and I hope she's not in pain._

_The woman eyes me for a moment and then sighs. "She says she wants to be a ballerina," She says, shaking her head. She knows what Bella has, and knows it is impossible for this child to be a ballerina. She puts Bella out again and leaves._

_I stare at Bella, and begin to cry._

~*~*~

I woke to the sound of Bella and a nurse. Bella's moan of discomfort rang in my ear, snapping me awake and I jumped up and went to her side. The nurse's fingers carefully pealed away a strip of Bella's dressing. Bella whimpered, her face scrunching. She groaned quietly, unable to speak because of the mouthpiece over her lips, the tube down her throat.

Somehow the nurse knew what she was saying, "I know it hurts, but, I have to, sweetie." The nurse replied, turning at her middle and pressed a button four times on Bella's IV monitor, and suddenly Bella was blubbering randomly until she fell quiet. "I'm sorry," The nurse muttered to me, peering up at me through her lashes. I brushed her off, waving my hand. I didn't know how the nurse did it - I had turned away when it finally hit me that Bella was going to be exposed to me, out of respect - but she had gotten the old dressing off and wrapped another one around Bella's tiny frame.

I sat and waited, never leaving her side until I had to pee, remaining quiet when Renee and Charlie finally showed up, the day after Bella's operation, well-rested and with food. They offered me some, but I said I had hospital food.

Bella stirred a few times during the following days, but had been carefully monitored so whenever she got too conscious, they would knock her out again. The nurses and I had become friends, and they even let me use their showers in the men's staff room. I dressed myself in scrubs that they gave me.

And I waited.

Everyday, the stem cell would slowly get closer to being empty.

Everyday, I wondered what it would bring us when she was able to wake up and talk to me. I wondered if it would be immediate results - though the doctors had told me again and again that it could be gradual, that they had never seen what may happen. I wondered if Bella would be able to run again. I wondered if I could teach her how to drive.

I wondered if she would actually get married to me.

A week later, she woke.

The nurses weren't around, and I knew it was evil, considering how much pain she _could_ be in, but I didn't hit the call button. I wanted to talk with her so bad, I wanted to hear her voice, but because of the tube stuck down her throat, I knew that was impossible. I would have to settle for the look in her eyes that she gave me when she saw me. The past week had been pure torture.

I walked over to the edge of her bed and pulled up a chair, crossing my arms on the railing and resting my head on them, making sure she could still see me. Her eyes flew around, trying to understand what was going on, where she was.

"Bella," I whispered, drawing her attention to me. When her brown eyes landed on mine, she blinked twice, her eyes welling up with tears. "Are you in pain?" I asked urgently, my finger hovering over the button. She moaned, and I bit my lip, unsure. "Blink once for yes, twice for no."

She blinked twice.

I sighed and pulled my hand back to the rail, but instead grabbed her hand. "I've been here all week," I told her, and her eyes widened, and I knew she would be complaining to me about not getting the right sleep, that I should have left, that all she did was lay here. I ran my thumb over the back of her hand comfortingly. "I wasn't going to leave." Her eyes rolled, so I continued. "I _couldn't_ leave." She looked at me questionably, "Renee and Charlie haven't been here in a while - yesterday. I wasn't going to let you wake up alone. Hell, if they would have been glued to you, I still don't think I would have left. God, I wish you could talk."

She closed her eyes and a tear rolled down her cheek. I brushed it away and called for the nurse, knowing she would heal better if she was resting. I kissed her forehead and then let her sleep.

~*~*~

Somehow they got me out of her hospital room so they could bathe her during the second week. I stood outside her door, resting my head against the wall, when her parents walked up. They had been in to see their daughter everyday, but never stayed longer than three hours. I had grown to disliking them over the two weeks here in Houston.

"Edward, you never leave, do you?" Renee teased, peering into the window.

My tone was clipped, "No."

By the third week, they'd taken the tube from her throat and she'd tried eating green Jell-O without any luck of painless swallowing. Esme had called, frantic, and I remembered how Bella had said they would see each other in two weeks. I told her the recovery was more difficult than anyone (other than my father) had expected. The middle of that week, they said her swelling was down and they said she could probably make the drive home in another week.

The best news was that she was healing perfectly. Her heart was beating normally, she had no infections, and they even said the scars wouldn't be too bad. I guessed what was most painful was the healing of her sternum, that bone between her breasts that was constantly moving because she breathed.

The worst news was that the stem cells seemed to be doing nothing for her condition. They'd started her on a frataxin drip, the same dose she would take when she was out of the hospital, but had told me that there may never be any effect on her, considering how long her nerves had been slowly disappearing.

This could have all been for nothing. Of course her heart surgery was a necessary operation. It was good for her, it cured her arterial fib. But the stem cells could actually be _useless_. The frataxin could be _useless_.

We wouldn't know until Bella started her physical therapy again. And how long that would be, I wouldn't know.

"Edward,"

I lifted my head from the magazine I had been reading and watched as she turned her head towards me. I smiled, happy she was awake. I leaned over and smoothed her hair back from her forehead. "Hey," I whispered, unable to break the quiet that was interrupted by the monitors signaling her heartbeat.

She licked her lips, returning my smile. I picked the water bottle from the nightstand, dropping a bendy stray into the lip. I held it to her lips and she drank greedily, sucking down three fourths of the bottle before pulling away to gasp and wince.

"Careful," I muttered, setting the bottle back in it's place. I still felt incredibly guilty about the kiss with Tanya, but I would never tell Bella. I don't think I could even if I wanted to. "Alice called this morning," I informed Bella.

"Really?" Her voice was surprised in a way that made my stomach roll.

I nodded. "She wanted to know how you were doing. She's coming back in two weeks for break. She wouldn't shut up about this new guy she met," I chuckled, remembering how I had to remind Bella's older sister to breathe between her sentences. I would have hung up on anyone else, but I'd seen what the Wrath of Alice Swan was, and I wanted to keep my balls.

Bella gave a noise that I could only guess was a laugh, and sweep my hand through her hair again, carefully. "What do you dream about?" I wondered aloud, wondering if she'd even tell me.

She looked away, straight up at the speckled ceiling tiles. "I don't know,"

"You're lying," I teased halfheartedly. Bella had always been a horrible liar.

"Alright, I'm dreaming about everything. I want your idea to work, and I want to be able to walk and talk without people thinking I'm drunk." She wheezed out the end of her words, and I handed over the bottle again, holding the straw for her. She finished off the water and I reminded myself to get two next time.

My next question for her would be hard to ask and hard to answer. I hesitated and then threw myself to the sharks.

"Do you really want to be a ballerina?"

Her breathing hitched and she stared at me, blinking. "I've always wanted to be a dancer,"

My heart broke inside my chest, the splintered pieces lodging in my ribs. They made it hard for me to breathe. All I could think was _Why her?_

Uncomfortable silence hung in the air, but was broken as Renee tapped on the door quietly, a smile on her face. I backed away from Bella's bed to allow her parents time with her, hoping they would realize that she felt so alone without them.

Their visit was brief, only sticking around for a few moments before Renee tugged her husband out the door. His reluctance was strong I had been able to taste it. Charlie suddenly had a higher rank than Renee.

Bella ran her hand over her face, looking tired and exhausted. "I can't wait until I can sleep in my own bed," She muttered, turning her head so she could see me.

I sat back in my chair next to her, taking her hand. "You and me both,"

"Oh, jeez, you need to go home and _sleep_, Edward,"

"I'm not leaving,"

She didn't retort. I took that as a good sign that she actually wanted me here. The room fell into a comfortable quiet, and we listened to the bustle outside her open door, and I watched the nurses, so focused on their work, yet they found a way to talk about tattoos and what Mr. Brandon needed in room 401 and if Dr. Morgan was on call tonight or Dr. Greene.

I noticed Bella's teeth were in her lip, chewing as she thought. I leaned closer and rubbed the pad of my thumb over it. When she released it I asked, "What's on your mind?"

"Sex,"

"_Again_?"

"Yes,"

We stared at each other, and I let out a disbelieving breath as I realized where she was going. "Bella . . ."

"Why not? We're best friends. You've been fucking around since twelve. I want my time, too,"

"Bella, I . . ." What the hell was I doing? I'd fantasized about her since I was nine and _now_ I decide that it might be just a bit strange to fuck my best friend? "I don't know,"

"Why?" Her tone surprised me. It wasn't hurt or choked, she sounded honestly curious.

I opened my mouth to say something, but found myself speechless, so I closed it.

"Because if not - why did you kiss me? Why did you ask me to marry you?"

I was thunderstruck, unable to think my way out of the hole I dug for myself. I took back my hand, rubbing it over my face. Alright, I'd seen Bella naked on numerous occasions, so at least I wouldn't have to gawk at her and make her uncomfortable like I'd know she'd get. What I was scared about was if she changed her mind last-second and decided it wasn't a good idea. Would we be able to remain friends, or would everything go to shit? It wasn't a good idea to fuck your friends (the main reason Bella was my only real female friend). It was like wiping your friendship off the girl's stomach afterward.

"Would you say yes?" I asked behind my hand, afraid to see her face that went with her words. It was her turn to be at a loss for words, and I smiled just because she couldn't see me when her heart monitors accelerated.

"Maybe," came her squeaky response.

"How close to yes is that maybe?"

Instead of answering me, Bella Swan decided to show me. She pulled away my hand by my wrist, and suddenly her lips were on mine, her left hand going to my hair and tugging so fiercely that I had no other option than to rise from my seat and lean over her, bracing myself on either railing so I didn't fall on her. She sucked the air right from my lungs, leaving me breathless, and didn't let me pull away to even try and breathe.

"Bella -" I mumbled against her lips, trying to pull away, but still held tightly to me. One hand in my hair, the other holding onto the edge of my scrub's collar, pulling me lower and lower. "Bel - _stop_."

I didn't want to hurt her, but I tore myself away from her grasp anyway, rubbing the back of my head where she'd probably taken some strands of hair when I stood upright.

"What?" She asked, wheezing. Her face was screwed up into a mask of pain and she looked like she wanted to touch her chest, but didn't because she knew it would only hurt more.

I blinked at her, my lips parted. I held out my hand to her. "Squeeze, as hard as you can," She grabbed my fingers, clenching her hand into a fist around mine. It didn't hurt, but I counted the seconds.

By twenty-two, she had realized what I was doing, and a smile spread itself over her face.

"It's working," She whispered, looking down at her white knuckles.

~*~*~

During the drive home, I made a show for Charlie and Renee, pulling Bella closer to me and peppering her with kisses. I didn't care, and after an hour, the blush on Bella's cheeks had dissipated to heat other, more enticing parts of her body. It took all my strength not to ravage her there, and I knew then that Bella had me.

She always had.

She stopped me just as we were hitting our county. "Are you still going to Columbia?" She whispered against my neck, leaning too close with her hand _way_ too close for a tiny car with her parents only two feet away. Her fingers massaged the inside of my right thigh.

Columbia had been my first choice of medical college for years, my dream. Carlisle had gone there, and I had planned to follow in his footsteps. Over this long and exhausting month and a half, and school was starting next month. I sighed, knowing I'd gotten into Columbia, Harvard, UCLA, and every other college I'd applied for.

When I didn't answer, Bella continued, "Brown gave me a partial scholarship."

I smiled, kissing her forehead. "That's great, Bella. You're going, right?"

She hesitated, resting her cheek on my shoulder. "I don't know." Her hand moved higher on my thigh. "You won't be there,"

"I shouldn't be a reason for you to give up a scholarship to Brown," I tried to ignore her hand on my jeans without success. Yes, the stem cells had _definitely_ loosened her fingers.

"You shouldn't be," She lifted her head, a sly smile on her face. "But you are," Hr voice was low and sexy and _ohmygodthere'sherhand_.

I bit at her earlobe just because her parents wouldn't notice and slapped away her hand. "Good, now, _be good_."

"I don't wanna be good,"

Thank God the music Charlie was playing drowned out his daughter's words, or I would have to perform miracle CPR to bring the man back.

I looked down at her, and she licked her lips. "We'll talk about it later, alright?" Biting her lip, the little kitten nodded. She leaned forward, her hand reclaiming its amazing spot just below my zipper, and kissed the edge of my lips.

The car suddenly jerked to a stop, and we were in front of Bella's house. She and I both sighed, wanting nothing more than to have more time together.

"I'm surprised the fucking windows aren't fogged up," Renee grumbled as she climbed out of the car. Bella and I erupted into side-hurting chortles, but was cut short by Renee helping the girl from the car. I followed out my own side, pulling my bag out of the trunk and held it so Bella's parents couldn't see my obvious . . . problem in my pants.

Bella shoved her mother away and stumbled her way over to me, using the car as a crutch. She leaned into me, kissing my lips. "Come over tonight?" She whispered so only I could here.

My eyes went wide, and I looked around, noticing that Esme was unlocking the front door of my house and was about to come and tackle both of us. "What?"

"Sneak in my room. Use the pine tree,"

And then Esme was on top of us, kissing Bella's hair and scolding me for not updating her more on her "daughter's" condition. Well, if Bella and I did get married, I didn't have to worry about my family accepting her.

I watched as she made her way back to her house, paying attention to her feet. Renee tried to help her, but Bella batted her away, and made it all the way up to the door.

She looked back at me, winked, and disappeared into her home.

* * *

**A/N:** Now, I'm not saying they're going to have sex next chapter, but I'm nervous anyway. Mainly because I'm thinking that if I write any love scene, it will take away from what this story is really about: Healing, friendship, love, and heartbreak. I don't want it to turn into a smut pit of gooey grossness.

I'm leaving it up to you guys, my awesome reviewers. Should I, or shouldn't I write and in-detail love scene in this story?

Thanks for reading and please review!

-R.I.


	7. Please say No

**A/N:** Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I've found my newest role-playing couple obsession. Two lovelies by the names of Camerith and Whitley. Oh, they are made of win and love.

Well, it's been decided: There will be an intimate scene between these two, and I'll do my best to make it classy. There's only so much I can do when I just got some new naughty songs on my iPod. ;D

Shanda. Need I say more?

**Credit: **Jess for her lovely part in this story.

**Disclaimer: **_Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Constance, Texas is a fictional town created by yours truly. I'm taking creative license on this story.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Please say No**

_**Isabella Swan - Age Eighteen**_

Because of the damn stitches holding my chest closed, I couldn't take a shower or bath. Instead, I had to give myself a Whore Bath, as my grandfather, air force veteran, would say. He'd been stationed on the island of Crete during the Vietnam War, and often called sink baths Whore Baths. Apparently, that was how the prostitutes cleaned themselves up afterwards. I really didn't want to know why he knew that.

As soon as I stepped inside my house, I made my difficult way upstairs and into the bathroom. I pealed my clothing from me carefully, wincing when I would stretch my seams too much or my arm would bend too bar over them, wrinkling them and causing a pain that was unbelievable, even with the pain medication making my head do funny things. I started the sink, threw a towel on the floor beneath my feet, and retrieved my purple orchid bath wash, my soft purple loofah sponge, and razor from the shower. I'd gone through a purple stage about two months ago. I had no idea how I used to shave my legs before without snipping a tendon or skinning myself before, and now it was just going to be harder.

It was strange standing in the middle of the upstairs bathroom, the door locked, cold as hell, giving myself a sink bath. I grimaced the whole time at the ugly green stitching surrounded by pink from the incision. Soaping up the loofah, I sighed, running it over my shoulders, carefully around my stitching, coming back over the suds with a wet washcloth. When I was pretty sure I couldn't clean myself any better while not actually in a shower, I tugged some clean underwear on and slipped an insanely baggy Aerosmith concert shirt over my head, thankful that it didn't bother my raw skin.

My heart fell as I stumbled into my room, dropping my dirty clothes in the hamper by my door, and saw the fat raindrops hitting my window. Edward would never come over if it was raining.

Renee noticed my mood during dinner as I picked at my lobster bisque. Who knew Campbell's made lobster bisque?

"What's wrong, Bella?" She asked, and if I didn't know my mother, I would have thought she was honestly worried about me. Well, she probably was, but she sounded more upset that I wasn't eating than concerned about what was going on in my mind.

"Nothing . . ." I muttered, lifting myself shakily from the table, dropping my spoon into my half-eaten soup. "I'm just not feeling well. I'm going to bed early tonight."

"But it's seven --"

"Renee," My father interrupted, and nodded up at me. I gave him a weak smile, going to clean my place. "I'll get it, Bells, just sleep well and feel better." I smiled a real gracious smile down at my father, using the back of his chair until I hit the kitchen wall, and scaled my way around the living room until I made it to the stairs.

They must have forgotten how slow I was.

"Renee, what's wrong?" Charlie asked. I paused on the seventh step, just out of sight from both of my parents, listening.

"Nothing's wrong."

"Don't feed me that, Renee,"

"Alright. I'm worried. I'm always worried, you know that,"

Charlie sighed. "Renee, I'm worried, too. I've been worried since her third grade teacher said Bella couldn't write cursive without crying."

"But, Charlie . . . She's --"

"Is this about Edward and her?" He suddenly sounded offended, as if she had just insulted his own son, and not the kid across the street.

"Yes," Renee replied. I rubbed my thighs, scrunching my face at the fact that they were already tired from standing on these stairs. "I don't like it, Charlie."

"Renee, are you _blind_?"

"Excuse me?" Mom gasped, and I could hear the clink of silverware on our cheap china.

I bit my lip, wishing I could sit down; the arch of my feet were screaming at me to keep moving or get the hell off of them.

"Have you not seen how _happy_ our daughter is? I don't know what that boy did, but he's . . . he's brought her back. Remember when she was a newborn, before we knew she had Friedreich's, we would take the kids out to the Y, the pool? Remember Emmett would try and untie Rosalie's bikini top without anyone noticing; Alice would cry about the tangles in her hair; and Bella? You would sit on the chair, Bella wrapped in a blanket, wearing those round yellow sunglasses, and she would laugh until she could barely breathe?" His voice had gotten increasingly quieter, and I strained, leaning on the wooden railing to hear. "She's back, Renee. I have never seen her like this before. And it's not obvious. She smiles more, Renee,"

There was a long silence, and I took the rest of the stairs, feeling like I was intruding on a private, nostalgic moment meant for my parents only. Chewing on my lip, I stopped at the hallway closet, popping it open and latching onto the pink lace at the very top.

Alice's. Damn.

The next one was Emmett's, blue and green and overflowing. I grumbled at my parents, dropping Emmett's on top of Alice's on the floor. I balanced carefully on the bottom shelf, stuffed with towels.

Covered in dust and ducks and ribbons in the back was the thinnest one of all, about two inches thick. It was my baby photo album.

I quietly shoved my sibling's photo albums (doubling in size, easily) back into the right shelf and closed the closet. I retreated to my room, curling up in my pillows, ready for a nice look back on what my life had been.

It started with three pictures. The top one was of a much younger Charlie Swan, painting the walls of my bedroom, which were now an off-green that I absolutely adored. The bottom left was of Renee, giant and pregnant with me, looking absolutely tired and worn out, but a smile on her blissfully unaware face. The one in the bottom corner was the completed nursery - they kept up with the duck theme; there were little yellow puff balls all over the place.

The next three pages were of the day I was born, Renee completely wiped out, looking horrible, even for my mother, who was almost always beautiful. But she'd just had a kid, so it was alright. Charlie had been obsessed with taking pictures of my siblings and I, even if my photo album was the smallest. I was the third child, and the sick child. It was understandable if either of my parental figures didn't feel like taking pictures of me.

I looked like a monster, I'm not going to lie. Some babies are so adorable I just want to boil them alive and eat them with streamed rice. I would have punted me out a window.

"Holy shit, my fingers were small," I whispered, holding up my hand, happy to see that I could stretch all of my fingers out, without pain. "Jesus, they're still small," My hands were probably half the size of my mother's. At least Alice was still tinier than me.

The pictures continued, including my first bath, a picture of Renee eating an apple, reading a packet of paper, Emmett tugging at her hat, Alice sitting next to Mom, and Mom was nursing me, even with everything going on around her. She looked as if she had been crying.

They became thin, pictures where I was in the arms of relatives that I would need to ask who they were, pictures of me holding Emmett's fingertips as he helped me walk, of Alice tugging a comb through my hair when I was one or two, of me hugging Edward at someone's wedding, he was trying to shove me away while still keeping me close, of Esme babysitting me, of Carlisle handing over a lollipop after my first shot.

And then the abruptly ended, without warning. I just flipped the page and the last twenty or so were , that made me feel better. My parents couldn't even fill a full photo album of me.

The last picture was adorable, though. I would want it made into a shirt if I ever could.

It was one of the few that had Charlie in it - he was quite the photographer - and we must have been at a water park that I don't remember. He was sitting down, his lips exaggeratingly puckered, and I was leaning forward, my lips looking the same, and I held my hands curled just under my chin, as if I had been shivering.

I dosed off after that.

_(11:32 PM)_

I jolted awake, my photo album falling off the bed, as something knocked rather loudly against my bedroom window. I hugged a pillow to my chest, ignoring the throbbing pain, scared that someone was about to hop through and slaughter me. A hand manifested through the sheeting rain, knuckles tapping on the glass. And then a male cursed, his hand slapping down on the wet window.

"Oh!" I gasped, jumping up from my nest, and running to the window. There was Edward, looking like a soaked cat, his eyes as wide as the moon, teetering on a branch of the pine tree outside my bedroom window.

"_Bella, let me in!_" He begged. I lifted the glass, rain splashing onto my bare legs and feet, creating a pool of water on the hardwood floor. "Thank you," he sighed, squeezing through the square hole.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered, shoving the window back down.

"You asked me to come," He explained, roughly running his hand through his hair in an attempt to dry it out. I nodded, taking in his appearance. He wore his black pajama pants that he'd had since he were fifteen, he was barefoot, but wore a soaked sweater over his upper half.

"Give me your clothes," I held out my hand.

Edward stared at me, shocked, as if I'd just asked him to go into my parents room and let them know he was here. "What?"

"So I can put them in the dryer," I blinked at him, shoving my hand at him. He said "Oh," and stripped his heavy, waterlogged sweater and dropped it into my arms. I turned to my closet, tugging a pair of oversized sleep pants from a pile in the corner and tossed them to him over my shoulder, letting him change.

I blushed as I thought that Edward was nude behind me, if only for a second.

"Here," he muttered, handing over the clot of clothes that was his bottoms.

"I'll get you a towel," I whispered, and fled down the hall to the laundry room, carefully opening and closing the dryer door, setting it for forty-five minutes, and took two towels from the rack above the washer and dryer. When I returned, I locked my door.

Edward was still standing by the window, and I went and stood in front of him, throwing a towel over his shoulder and dropping the other to the floor, to soak up the spilled rainwater. He scrubbed his hair, hanging the fabric across his neck and over his shoulders once he was satisfied with his damp, amazingly sexy unruly hair.

There was a minute of strange, awkward silence as we stared at each other, Edward wearing only the gray sleep pants, and I only in my black Aerosmith shirt.

Suddenly his right hand was on my hip, though, and my breathing hitched. "Is this what you wear to bed, now?" He asked quietly. Before I could respond, he kissed me, a light peck. "What happened to the shorts and tank top you used to wear?" Another kiss, this time longer.

I couldn't understand him, my mind losing total focus as he pulled away. My eyes fluttered open, and I stared at him for a moment, memorizing how he looked in the gray, stormy light from outside. Edward was probably the most handsome male I had ever seen in my life. His eyes were lidded, a sparkling dark bottle green, watching me as I watched him. His skin looked ghastly white in the filtered light from my window, his cheekbones high, his nose perfect and long. His lips were curved and full, perfectly masculine; his jaw was strong, his ears just slightly turned out. His hair glistened and fell onto his forehead.

We leaned into each other at the same time, pressing our lips together, and both of his hands were on my hips now, pulling me closer as he took a step forward. I leaned into him, moving my lips with his, turning my head to the side and opening my mouth. Our tongues danced, and when we broke apart to breathe, I smiled and sighed. Edward kissed me once, twice, thrice, his hands bunching my shirt under his palms as they moved up my sides.

I slid my hands up his chest, feeling the angled planes of his muscles that had come about when he was thirteen and he'd become vain. I held my lips to his, moving my hands over his shoulders and neck, the towel sliding from his skin and into a cotton puddle on the floor. I rested my elbows in the small hollow of his shoulders and neck, threading my fingers into his soft hair. I wondered for a brief moment if he knew I wasn't wearing a bra, because he was about to find out.

I felt his chest jump as his breath caught inside his throat, his fingers not finding a fabric along the skin of my sides. He pressed his lips feverishly to mine, a low moan vibrating deep in his throat. It sizzled down to my core, his large hands moving to my back, right between my shoulder blades, holding me tightly to him.

Sucking in a breath of air, I pulled away from his lips, panting, gasping. His mouth moved to the corner of my jawbone, kissing down my throat, at my clavicle and then, in the little dip between the two of them. I gasped and let out a breathy moan at the feeling of his lips _there_, of all places. My knees buckled when his hot tongue swirled in that depression of my flesh, but his hands shot down and caught me by my rear, holding me against him.

"Bella," he groaned into my throat, running the tip of his nose from my shoulder to the point of my left collarbone. I moaned in response, unable to make my tongue work correctly. It seemed to have turned to pudding along with my legs. Edward shook his head, slowly. "We can't do this,"

I felt like I wanted to cry. He'd just climbed into my room, kissing and nipping at me, and now he wanted to _stop_? _No!_

"No," I blubbered, knotting my fingers in his hair so he wouldn't pull away. "Why?" I gasped.

Despite what I thought was a death-grip in his hair, he straightening up. I took notice to the fact that he hadn't released my ass. "Bella . . . I -" He looked tortured and hurt, like a boy whose dog had just died. He opened his mouth to continue to speak, but closed it when he found no words.

"Is it because I'm a freak?" I asked, my eyebrows pulling together in anger.

Edward's eyes grew wide, and he yelled "No!" before he could think better of it. "_No, Bella,_" he whispered, dipping his face so he could look in my eyes. "Of course not,"

"Then why _not_?" I breathed, leaning forward to break the inch of separation our lips had. He moved away, though, and my mouth landed on his shoulder. Not to be discouraged, I kissed him there, moving up towards the soft skin of his throat. His muscles were tense, his hands moving up my back again, to pull me closer, though I could hear him saying _Stop, stop, stop_ over and over. I sucked lightly on the flesh I found, creating a little cherry on his throat, and licked over it. Edward was _mine_, no matter how many girls he'd screwed.

He through caution to the wind when I blew onto the skin behind his ear, one of his hands going to my arm under my shirt, the other to my bottom, and he lifted me up. Following him, I spread my legs and wrapped them around his waist, hoping he didn't expect me to be able to stay like this for too long. Edward's mouth was heated on mine, sucking on my bottom lip and raking his teeth over it. I gasped, locking my arms around his neck. He'd pulled all rational thought from my mind through my mouth, passing flame and spark and breath between our connected lips.

It was just when my legs were getting weak around his body that he started to move towards my bed. My heart soared, because maybe he _did_ want me, despite how my body was. My stomach dropped, because this was _it_, and it was with _Edward_. My lips trembled, because I couldn't get enough oxygen to my lungs, but I didn't care.

His hair was almost dry as he pulled back my covers and slipped me under them. I let my legs fall, but latched onto his ears, bringing him over me, and he encased us in the warm threads. Edward hitched my knees over his hips, running his palms up the back of my thighs, over the thin strap of my panties, over my hips, all the way to my ribcage, where he suddenly stopped. I could feel _him_ through the sweatpants and my underwear, and I whimpered, wishing for more friction. Edward was skilled and understood, grinding his hips into mine, and a strange noise left my chest, a mix between a growl and a moan. He licked along my throat, and I suddenly wished I _had_ worn my usual tank top and shorts to bed.

"We're not doing it tonight, Bella," he said against my skin, and I let out a cry of desperation. He slapped his hand over my mouth, silencing me. I stared at him with wide eyes, sure I was about to cry because _we were in my bed, he was there, right there, between my legs, with an amazing hard-on, and I was so ready for this to be the night and his hands were so warm and big and if he would just take off my underwear and shirt and his pants, we'd be ready to go._ "You just had surgery," he whispered.

"Mmmt mas ah minth ago!" What I meant to say was 'it was a month ago,' but because of his hand, it was slurred. He shook his head, removing his hand. "Edward, _please_," I begged, leaning forward on my elbows to try and kiss him, but he backed just out of my reach. So I shoved him away, and he sat back on his ankles. "Leave," I demanded, clenching my teeth in a desperate attempt to keep the furious tears at bay.

"Bella -"

"Edward, what did you think I wanted when I asked you to come to my room tonight?"

He stared at me for a moment, his shoulders slowly slumping forward, and he bowed his head. His hands were still on my thighs and I didn't have the heart to slap them away. After what felt like an eternity without either of us making a sound, only the rain rapping on the pane of my window and the roof let me know that this was real, Edward spoke.

"Is the only reason you're with me like this because you want to have sex?"

"No," I answered too quickly.

He looked up at me, his eyes hurt and betrayed. "Why?" the boy asked, because he knew I was lying.

I looked away, out the window, and he didn't question me further. Edward took my left leg and moved it to the other side of his body, so I was laying on my side and he wasn't between my legs anymore. He took my left wrist in his hand and laid down behind me, squishing himself close to me in my bed. My bed that was too small for two, and too big for one.

I fell asleep with his breath fanning over my neck, his arm around me, his fingers cradling my wrist.

_(8:12 AM, the following morning)_

There was a loud crash downstairs, the house shaking with the force. I jerked awake, Edward muttering something beside me before nuzzling his face into my neck.

"Hello, family!" Came the booming voice of my older brother. "There's a little one wanting to see you!"

I sat up in bed, already hearing the squeals from my nephew downstairs, Renee's coos, and Charlie's uncomfortable gushes over the little Emmett. I couldn't hear Rosalie, and I wondered for only a second if she was here.

Edward reached up for me, wrapping his arm around my waist. I grabbed his wrist and shook it. "Edward, wake up," I whispered urgently. He licked his lips, but otherwise remained unconscious. "Come on, Edward," I pulled on his arm, and the force caused my weak body to flop back next to him, and his hand traveled up my hip and under my shirt to my stomach. I gasped in surprise, pondering if he was really awake and was playing me.

"Hey, Sissy!" Emmett yelled, throwing my door open despite the lock. When his eyes landed on Edward and I, Edward's hand under my shirt, my startled face, he took a surprised step back.

_Three, two, one._

Emmett turned Brother Bear, squaring his shoulders and puffing up like a blow fish. "What the hell?" He asked, his breathing rough. I could tell he was trying to not make a scene to bring attention to our parents, and I thanked him silently.

"Emmett . . ." I squeaked, shoving Edward's hand away, and - finally - he jolted awake, letting out a little "Huh?"

"Get out of my sister's bed," Emmett growled, and Edward jumped away, stumbling as he stood. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Edward tried several times to explain, and when it looked as if he was about to catch fire from Emmett's glare, I spoke: "I asked him to come." I looked sheepishly away, "I didn't want to be alone my first night home."

An uncomfortable silence settled over us in my room. Finally, Emmett talked.

"Well, fuck," he rubbed the back of his neck, looking so insanely uncomfortable that I wanted to hug him, "this is awkward,"

"What is?" Came my mother's voice behind him.

_Oh, shit._

* * *

**A/N: **I had to stop here. Sorry. I couldn't get anything to sound right. : / And I went to a concert last night. If you have the time, check out Air Raid Anthem, Weston Buck, and Verbatym on MySpace. God, they're amazing.

Would it be too much to ask to get to 80 reviews this time? We're already at 65 - honestly, I can't believe it.

Please review! Thanks!

-R.I.


	8. I've Been Bad

**A/N: **School is the biggest muse-drain I have ever experienced. I'm so sorry it's taken so long. I haven't been able to write anything.

Quick and shameless plug. At least it's not for my own good. Go watch _Adventureland_ if you haven't already. It's amazing. Mainly because it gave me the song "Pale Blue Eyes"; I've been searching for this song for forever.

As always, Shanda. ;D Sorry I kept you waiting, love.

**Credit: **Jess for her lovely part in this story. _The Cake Eaters_ for getting me obsessed with FA, and giving me inspiration when I feel pathetic enough to sneak over to our DVD collection to grab the movie and other random ones (that usually have raunchy scenes) so I feel like writing.

**Disclaimer: **_Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Constance, Texas is a fictional town created by yours truly. I'm taking creative license on this story.

* * *

**Chapter Seven: I've Been Bad**

_**Isabella Swan - Age Eighteen**_

As soon as my mother's voice rang through my tiny little bedroom, Edward dropped to the floor, and Emmett threw himself out the door, slamming it behind him. I heard him stumble over his own bear-like feet, and then the muffled sounds of a rushed, brief, and untrue explanation to Renee.

Edward was on his feet again, hurrying to the window and pushing it up. "What about your clothes?" I hissed, trying to get myself out of my bed to meet him before he left.

He froze, biting his lip. His hair was in total disarray, a few strands sticking to his forehead that I wanted to swipe away and kiss the skin there. I latched onto his bicep as I fell into him, and he caught me out of habit.

"Just make sure your parents don't see them," he whispered, sticking one leg out the window and ducking out. His right leg followed his body, and then he was teetering on the ledge of the roof, toeing towards the sturdy branch of the pine tree.

I stuck my head out, reaching over and brushing my fingertips over his jaw. He turned to look at me, and I hesitated. I wanted to kiss him, like I would any other day when saying goodbye.

But his green eyes were saddened and dull, and my answer came rushing back.

_He thought I only wanted to have sex with him._

"Kiss me," I whispered, testing how badly I had hurt him. He closed his eyes, shook his head once, and was too far away for me to grab and pull back to me.

I watched as he skillfully picked his way down the tree, landing on the soft lawn without a sound, and wondered how many times he'd done that. How many time's he'd escaped through a girl's window.

I wondered how many times he did it without getting laid beforehand.

_Once_.

~*~*~

"Jeez, you've gotten big," I told a miniature Emmett as he came running up and hugged my legs. His hair was curly and brown, but his parents had let it grow out and he was pushing his bangs from his bright blue eyes almost constantly.

"Max, come here," his mother said, snapping her fingers. The child let go of my legs and bounced over to Rosalie, clambering up into her lap on her perch at the end of the couch. He sighed, resting his head on her breasts like a pillow.

Emmett had covered for Edward and I. Apparently, he'd found me trying to give myself an insulin shot. Normally, that wouldn't be too awkward, but Renee knew that recently, I'd started sticking myself in my upper thigh, and no longer in my waist. She bought it.

And I owed Emmett my life.

Alice had gotten a ride with Brother Bear, Rosalie and the kids. Madeline was a spitting image of her mother, only with brown hair. Rosalie kept her children groomed and orderly, and Maddy was currently helping Alice place silverware around the table, preparing for brunch.

I rubbed my arm, feeling awkward and out of place in my family. Renee and Charlie were still in their pajamas, at least. I'd slipped on a pair of bright blue paid PJ pants before coming downstairs to the smell of my mother's bacon and scrambled cheese eggs.

Emmett had tried college on for size for exactly two days and eleven hours. And then they found out Rosalie was pregnant with Maximilian and he somehow came up with the money for a house in Meadow Grove, on the other side of the lake. He and Rose were married when she was seven months along, and Emmett had gotten a job at the local newspaper. Maddy was born two years later and was now three.

Alice had scored a full scholarship to some high-end fashion school. I was always telling her that she would be as big as Armani even without the education. But the trip across the world had done good - she'd found the "man of her dreams" among the throng of Italian Sex Gods. The funniest part was that he wasn't even Italian - he'd come from Texas as well.

I wondered if my siblings even noticed that I could walk just a little bit more. The kids certainly did. Maddy came running up to me after the silverware was on the table, holding her arms out to me, blinking with giant blue eyes. They had been taught very early on that Aunt Bella couldn't hold them.

It wasn't just dangerous for me, but for them. If I dropped them, Rosalie would have my heart on a plate before anyone could ask the kid if they were alright.

Biting my lip, I decided to take a chance. I smiled down at my beautiful niece, and bent towards her. I wrapped my arms around her waist and kept her close to my body. She squealed as I tucked her against my hip, drawing attention to us.

The house went silent. I ignored the attention, holding Madeline's hand and bouncing her slightly.

I felt like crying.

~*~*~

I needed to call Edward.

After the scene with Madeline, the kids had been all over me. Don't get my wrong, I love my niece and nephew. But they were only one of the reasons I didn't want kids. Emmett was a sucker for them and spoiled them rotten.

I needed to get away. But most importantly, I needed to set things straight.

Esme answered the phone, asked me how I was. I was great, thank you. No, the little ones hadn't driven me up the wall yet. _Yet_. Is your son home?

"Actually, he left just a few minutes ago to the hospital. He should be helping his father tonight,"

My heart sank. I thanked her and hung up, wondering if Charlie or Renee would drive me to the hospital.

_Of course not, Bella, _Mom would say, _family's here._

Family first.

And hadn't I spent enough time in a hospital? I was pretty sure I was done with those for the rest of my life.

Hopefully.

Alice invaded my bathroom for over an hour before bed. She'd been gone for only a few months, but I'd gotten used to having my own bathroom down the hall. I felt territorial, like she was telling me how to dress and where to put what in my room again.

I hit my fist against the door as I passed, earning a scream from inside. I smiled.

Just like old times.

"Bella!" She screeched, opening the door and sticking her head out. Her inky short hair was combed back against her head and still wet from her forty-five minute shower. She would have looked like a guy if it wasn't for her insanely girlish features.

It was as if she had been born with mascara on.

"What?" I paused, holding onto the handrail of the stairs.

She smiled slyly and I felt my eyes go wide. What could Alice have up her . . . towel now? The steam curling in the air seemed to touch her perfect skin like fingers, making her look even more venomous.

"Are you getting ice cream?"

"No,"

"Oh, can you grab me some, then?"

I sighed, turning back to the stairs.

Just like old times.

Her mention of ice cream got me going for some, and I carried two popsicles up to my room, where I already knew my older sister would be. The way she vibrated and sizzled throughout the day told me she wanted - well, _needed_ was a better word - to talk with me.

I tossed her the orange popsicle in its wrapper, tearing off mine and licking the entire thing before she noticed I'd given her least favorite flavor to her.

_Mmm, raspberry._

She scowled up at me, her short locks mussed up and spiked again. I made my shaky way over to the edge of my bed and sat down next to her. My sister twisted a longer piece of hair around her thin finger, the popsicle turning her thin lips orange.

Her pajamas made her look like a bumblebee, but I knew to keep my mouth shut. This was one of Alice's creations straight from the mannequin.

"So," She started, her eyes rolling to look at me. "You're hiding something possibly deadly from Mom and Dad,"

Right to the point. Just like old times. These were the kind of moments I missed my sister being around - her blunt comments were a nice contrast to Renee's bush-beating.

Before I could say anything, I jumped up and scurried from my room, down the hall, quietly opening the dryer. Thank goodness no one had to do laundry today. Making sure Alice wasn't watching me from my room, I lifted Edward's sweater to my face and took a long breath. Oh, they still smelled like him.

"Ah," Alice observed as I shut my door behind me, displaying the men's clothes. Of course, she didn't know they were Edward's. After a moment of silence, her face lit up with one of her ear-to-ear smiles that only looked charming on Alice. She looked like she was repressing a scream. "You have a boyfriend!" She whispered loudly, her substitute for shouting it from the rooftops.

I shook my finger at her as I sat down. "No," I sighed. Was Edward my boyfriend? We hadn't declared each other, and my stupid answer to his question last night certainly said 'no'.

"You have his clothes," She stated the obvious, a drop of sugary orange rolling to the center for her full bottom lip. Her tongue ran across it and it was gone.

I nodded, gently folding them and setting them aside, close to my pillow. That still smelled like him, probably. He was everywhere. "Doesn't mean anything,"

"_You have his clothes, Isabella,_"

"And you still can't eat anything without getting food halfway up to your eyebrow," I snapped, falling back on my bed so my bed hung off the other side. I watched with perfectly hidden amusement as my sister stood from my bed and checked her face in the mirror.

She'd always been a messy eater as a child. Her lips were always penciled instead with chocolate and other assortments of food residue; this day in age, it was makeup. She swiped her fingers along the edges of her lips and deposited her popsicle stick in my trash can.

I stared at the ceiling. The weight on the bed shifted, and suddenly, Alice's head was right next to mine.

"You have his clothes," She said again, and I considered asking her to leave so I could sleep. Or try and call Edward.

I sighed. "I do,"

"How?"

"He came over last night,"

"Sex?"

"No," I said after a pause. My sister raised herself up on her skinny elbow and looked down at my face. I felt strange - Alice was usually under me. Normally, I could see the top of her head. She felt like an _older_ sister here and now. Her perfectly plucked eyebrow raised slowly on her forehead. "_No_." I repeated firmly, rolling over so I was on my stomach.

"Oh, come on, Bella, I know it's Edward,"

Good ole Alice. I smiled for only a moment. When it faded, I sighed, and it wasn't until a darker speck appeared on my carpet did I realize I was crying.

"Hey," Alice whispered, and she was pushing my hair aside and turning my head slightly so she could look into my face. "What's wrong?"

I shook my head, but leaned into her touch. She was my sister. "Help me up," I requested with a squeak in my voice, and she did.

Suddenly, she was leaning back against my headboard, my head on her shoulder, her tiny legs curled under both of us and yet it still wasn't uncomfortable. She picked a brush from my nightstand and pressed her hand against my back to keep me balanced as she ran the brush through my hair.

It was strangely intimate for a sister-sister relationship, with her small hand on the small of my back, the tangles leaving quickly under her fingers.

This only made me cry harder.

"What did he do to you?" She assumed quietly, and I thanked her silently for holding back what I knew was bubbling under her façade. She wanted to scream and stomp around, buzz around my head like the bee she appeared to be, demand answers. There was no threat behind her words, and it reassured me that I could confide in her.

"Save me," I whispered. Her hand hesitated only a moment in my hair, and then continued as if she hadn't heard my statement.

There was a pregnant pause.

My sister's tone was curious when she spoke: "What do you mean?"

Swallowing and blinking my salty eyes, I turned towards her. Her pajamas were not only held closed by little buttons - honey bees, of course - but a silk strap around her waist. Her arms fell to her sides as she watched me.

I pulled it loose, ran my fingertips over the cool fabric, sighing. I'd tried this only once earlier, and I'd cried when I succeeded.

Twisting the fabric in my still-awkward hands, I tied it back into its bow, tugging it so it wouldn't fall open.

When I looked up, Alice was staring at me, and then the bow.

"What did he do to you?" She whispered, a look of pure astonishment on her girlish face.

Licking my lips, I took a deep breath, and explained everything to her. From the insulin shot that Edward helped me with, to the physical therapy and the talk about sex on the drive home, to Edward's claim about fixing me. From the kiss beside the walkway at the hospital, all the way to last night. And she listened, until my breathing was shallow from talking so long and my lips were tingling. She waited in only the way Mary Alice Swan could wait - practically vibrating with pent up energy that wished to be released.

When I was finished, I covered my mouth with my hands and rested my elbows on my knees.

"So, you're getting better?" She broke the silence when the clock was on 11:21. I shrugged, staring without seeing. "_Bella -_"

"I don't know," I stopped her short, shifting my fingers so I could speak through them. I didn't like what I was feeling - I mix of worthlessness and the heat of a spotlight that was suddenly shining on me. _I was getting better_. Because of Edward and a twisted way of luck.

I didn't want to voice my doubts - it would only make them that much more real to me. The medical babble I'd been drenched in throughout my life told me to believe the science, the statistics. I was a statistic, after all.

I didn't believe in the thought of "believing you will get better, and you will." It didn't work like that. It was fucked up, but it didn't.

If it did, no one would have cancer, and kids wouldn't be dying of starvation.

Nausea hit me as I felt the guilt well up in the back of my throat. I'd screwed up with Edward. Badly. I needed to mend this, if anything.

He'd given me so much - damn near everything. I had nothing for him; I could hardly tell him "thank you" and get over it. There was nothing here for him. Why should I be the one to hurt him like that? I was his best friend, _I_ was supposed to go beat the shit out of the girls who broke his heart.

Well, in Edward's case, console the girls that had gotten their heart broken by him.

"I don't want to be the best friend," I found myself saying before I could raise a flimsy barrier between my thoughts and words.

Alice said, "No one does," and leaned forward, pulling my face from my hands, and kissed my lips. A sisterly kiss, our eyes open. She pulled away only to kiss both of my cheeks, ask if I wanted her to sleep with me tonight, and for me to shake my head 'no'.

Then she smiled with a shine in her eyes that I had never seen before. I didn't know what it was - hurt, maybe, but Alice never got hurt. She was too tough.

She left my room then, gently shutting my door, locking me in so I could cry and harm myself without anyone knowing.

Older sisters weren't allowed to get hurt.

~*~*~

_**Edward Cullen - Age Eighteen**_

This was bad.

Very bad.

Fuck it all, this was catastrophic.

Esme believed me far too much. I wasn't at the hospital. And damn it, if she asked Dad, I'd be off the hook.

As soon as I thought of a good enough excuse.

For sleeping with yet another girl.

And not Bella.

But I needed it. It was excusable, right? Bella completely pissed me off and confused me. One second she was acting as if she wanted nothing more than to just kiss me and let me hold her. The next, she was practically saying, "All I want is your dick, is there a way to just use it without you?"

Women are mindfucks.

The worst part was that I now wanted nothing more than to be with Bella.

Of course I had to wash the skank off me first, but that was besides the point.

My best friend shouldn't be mad at me - we hadn't said anything official; I was starting to doubt whether or not she even wanted something with boundaries and titles. She shouldn't be upset that I'd had sex.

I didn't even enjoy it. That had to count for something.

I'd fucked this woman before. And she didn't get better once she was legal, I'll tell you that.

The entire time, all I could think about was that damn Aerosmith t-shirt and how I wanted nothing more than to take it _off_ of Bella and just take her already.

Damn it, what's wrong with me? She was begging to get screwed yesterday, and _I_ had to be the one to say no?

She was just . . . Gah, she was just _Bella_, and damn God or whoever that she had to be placed in such an amazing and prison of a body. She had always been skinny, and her disability prevented her from even participating in PE at school, so she'd never had muscle.

Not like I was complaining. Her skin was the most incredible piece of art I had ever seen. I wanted nothing more than to memorize every section of her flesh, count all the hairs on her head, and sleep on her stomach - or lower - every night.

Fuck, I was in love. And she didn't return the feeling, it seemed.

It was sometime around four in the morning when I finally got the guts to get out of my Volvo (parked a safe block away so Mom wouldn't get suspicious) and go to her.

By God, I was going to get this girl to love me.

It was misting still, so it washed most of the stupid sparkles off my skin on the way over. I had a bottle of cologne in my glove box that I'd sprayed too much of to rid the scent of sex. I tried hard enough to be presentable.

Picking my way up the pine tree, I hesitated for only a second.

She had just gotten home from major surgery. She still had stitches. She was still probably weak.

But then I smiled, because I didn't care if she didn't. And I wouldn't mind making her exhausted in my own way.

_I wonder what she looked like when she came._

I tapped three times on her window, which was dark with drawn curtains. When she didn't answer, I did three more, this time just a bit lighter. I'd heard her sister was staying with them on her vacation from Italy. I didn't want to wake Alice before she was done with her Beauty Sleep.

Bella still didn't come to her window, and nothing seemed to budge inside her room. Frustrated, I stuck my fingertips under the small ledge of the pane. I lifted, and smiled when I found it open.

"Bella," I whispered, gently pushing the curtains aside. A pool of light floated in over my shoulder and landed right on the girl I was lusting after.

Sure, I'd just had sex.

But this was one of the most erotic things I had ever seen before in my life. And none of her goodies were in my face.

_Did I just refer to Bella's sex as goodies?_

Whatever.

Bella's shirt - that Aerosmith shirt - had ridden up in her restless sleep and was bunching just beneath her breasts, revealing the slow hollow of her stomach, the gentle line to either of her hipbones. Her bikini-cut underwear were resting just below the points of her hips, a shadow in the space beneath them.

The moonlight from behind me turned her skin an underwater blue, turning her into a creature of the deep, too beautiful to be human but too real to be fiction. Her head was turned away from me, towards her closet, but in the mirror, I could see her face, webbed with her dark hair. Her pink lips were parted and twitching slightly.

When her hand moved, my heart jumped into my throat. Oh fuck, she's awake.

But she only placed her hand, palm-flat against her dipped stomach and sighed. Her fingertips traced slow, sleepy patterns on her skin, her hand inching upward. She stopped when she hit the rolls of her ribcage, sighing again.

I was sure my zipper was about to burst open. Jesus Christ, she was only _sleeping_. And it wasn't even a naughty dream she was having.

"Bella," I said louder, unable to stop myself.

She jumped awake, her eyes snapping open and meeting mine in her mirror. "Edward?" She rasped, her voice throaty with sleep. I nodded, placing a crooked smile on my face.

"Is it hot in there, or something?" I asked, trying hard not to laugh. She was suddenly aware of her hand against the bare flesh of her stomach, and quickly tugged her shirt down. "Come on," I said, motioning with my head for her to get up.

She sat upright in her bed, her legs dangling over the side. Yawning, Bella checked the clock. "Edward, it's four," she muttered, rubbing the side of her face. Despite her words, she stood and stumbled around for some sort of lower-body coverage. I watched with careful eyes as she slipped into the jeans I told her to wear five weeks ago, the skinny ones, and buttoned them with ease.

_It was working_.

"Where are we going?" She muttered, coming towards the window. I reached through and wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her chest flush against mine.

"Does it matter?" I whispered, my lips brushing hers. She shook her head sharply. We both paused, testing the waters on both ends of the pond, before we leaned in together and kissed. She pressed her face close to mine, keeping our lips locked tightly together.

Something _fluttered_ in my chest. Edward Cullen doesn't _flutter_.

"I'm sorry," she licked against the edge of my mouth, guilt lacing her tone. I shook my head slowly, and captured her lips fully.

"I'm sorry," I threw back at her.

"Why?"

I would never tell, so I shook my head and kept our mouths busy.

"What are we doing?" She asked as I helped her onto my back. She clung to me like a monkey. I tried very hard not to think of her - _all of her _- pressed against me.

I carefully scaled towards the tree, climbed down, and didn't let her down when we hit the grass. When I started walking, I replied.

"I have something . . . That I want to do to you," I chuckled, moving from one of my hands from her thigh and up behind her head before she could respond. Still walking, I pulled her forward and took her lips sideways.

There would be no stopping on my part.

* * *

**A/N: **FINALLY! I'm finally finished with this chapter. So excited to get it up, that I'm not going to check it over. Excuse any grammar and spelling errors.

I made a "trailer" for _Remembering Sunday_ - I know, isn't it awesome? - and as soon as I get to a computer with high-speed internet, I'll upload it to YouTube and hand the link on over to you guys. I love how it came out. ;D

Please review!

-R.I.


	9. The Good Fight

**A/N:** I must thank you all for taking the late updates, the excuses, and my twisted form of entertainment.

Must love Shanda.

**Credit: **Jess for her lovely part in this story. _The Cake Eaters_ for getting me obsessed with FA, and giving me inspiration when I feel pathetic enough to sneak over to our DVD collection to grab the movie and other random ones (that usually have raunchy scenes) so I feel like writing.

**Disclaimer: **_Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Constance, Texas is a fictional town created by yours truly. I'm taking creative license on this story.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: The Good Fight**

_**Edward Cullen - Age Eighteen**_

My words before I tucked her into my car had gone unnoticed in her hazy state. I wasn't sure if I liked that or not.

She was curious, but not enough to keep her from falling asleep in the passenger seat. She had been able to ask only once where I was taking her. But then the clock struck 4:30 and she was out.

As Bella slept, I started to doubt myself.

Because she deserved better. Not some loser who had lost his virginity at twelve and then proceeded to make his way through almost every female with a pulse in the town.

Especially when I had just screwed another chick.

I suddenly wasn't so horny anymore.

When I looked over at her, she was staring at me, her head relaxed against the headrest.

"You're stressed out," she mumbled, reaching out and running her index finger down my jaw. My mouth watered. Turning my attention back to the headlights, I was mesmerized for a moment from the streak of yellow and white flashing under my car at an "unbelievable speed", as Bella would say. "Why?" She asked after a moment.

I didn't reply, which was bad. I was trying too hard to figure out where I should take her. I could hardly bring her to the spot I had originally planned. I'd lose myself if I did.

Bella didn't press, only pulling my right hand from the wheel and smoothing out my fingers. Her fingertips in my palm felt like licks of fire, searing my flesh.

I had my destination as we rounded a corner toward downtown. Of course - Yogurtland.

It was 4:45, but they were open. Why not?

Bella's blunt nails bit lightly into my skin as I skidded my wheels to get into the deserted parking lot. "You need to stop doing that - I just had heart surgery, dammit," She rested her hand lightly on her chest, her breathing harsh, and I wondered how fast her little heart was going.

Parking the car, Bella unbuckled herself and I was at her side in a matter of seconds, helping her up. When I went to support her like I always did - holding her wrist with her elbow tucked into the crook of my arm - she shook her head, a sheepish smile gracing her face.

Instead, she threaded her fingers with mine; our hands fit like key and lock. To say I wasn't nervous about her catching her toe or completely falling on the first step she took, I would be lying.

But she walked, and I tried to keep my jaw off the asphalt. She was slow, and her gate was awkward and strange, like a newborn horse: all knees and elbows. But she walked, leaning slightly on me for support.

Oh, Jesus it was working.

_It was working_.

~*~*~

Bella shivered, licking the pink plastic spoon clean. "You know, I've never had frozen yogurt at five in the morning," She stated, pulling the spoon away to examine it. We'd each gotten the large cups - the ones that looked like an SuperSized cup from McDonald's, only bigger and insanely purple - and filled it with everything we wanted.

Bella kept hers mainly simple: A swirled chocolate and vanilla ice cream and tens of spoonfuls of white chocolate chips and pink and green Yogurtland sprinkles. I, on the other hand, decided to squeeze every other ice cream flavor into my cup and then all the toppings that would probably be tasty. The total was over fifteen dollars - eighty cents an ounce adds up far too quickly - but damn, it was good.

"Neither have I," I chuckled, tossing a soggy strawberry covered in mango frozen yogurt into my mouth.

The sun was just coming up now, over the flat horizon only interrupted by the tallest buildings of downtown Constance, Texas. It shined right in my eyes, but I didn't dare put sunglasses on or flip down the visor. That would mean I would have to move.

And about a pound of frozen yogurt with so many toppings it was hard to count really didn't permit you moving for at least five hours.

Her entire hand disappeared into the cup as she scooped out another mound of ice cream. "So you woke me up at four to go get some . . ." - she swallowed the lump of sweet, half-melted goodness - "ice cream?"

"Ah, yeah." I stuttered, looking into my own, almost-empty cup. "I was craving it,"

"Right," She sighed, dropping her spoon into the paper cup. "I'm never going to finish this, you know. I told you I only needed the small,"

Yogurtland seemed to think that everyone either wanted to completely gorge themselves with their product, or only slightly gorge themselves. Either way, you got an enormous portion.

I laughed uncomfortably. "Me too," I was almost positive I'd eaten less than her - I wasn't feeling too well.

I couldn't believe I had thought I was going to have sex with Bella right after fucking some random girl.

I was sick.

"So, it's Sunday," Bella yawned, leaning forward and setting the Yogurtland cup on the floor of the car. I nodded, staring out the window at the little town slowly waking. An elderly man was opening the dark green shutters of his parts shop, kicking rocks off the walkway before turning towards the sun and squinting up at it.

"What's on the radio?" She asked, turning the keys in the ignition and twisting the volume knob.

" . . . _and sex_ -"

"Okay, I'm good," she exclaimed, turning off the , morning talk shows.

I laughed, wondering briefly if there was going to be anyway to save the frozen yogurt. I _had_ spent some major coin on it. Shaking my head, I turned and smiled at Bella, who's eyes were little lines due to the brightening sun.

"School's starting soon," She assessed, biting her lip. "I'm not taking the scholarship,"

I was suddenly serious, my spine straightening as I leaned towards her slightly. "Why?"

Bella shrugged, nibbling on that glorious pink flesh. "There's no way I'll be able to live . . . ."

I knew what she was going to say. Something she would have said a month ago: There was no way she would be able to live _alone_.

"Well," I reasoned, "you . . . Can now,"

She looked down, picked at her nails. Sniffling, she swiped at her eyes. Sadness hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Oh, Bella," I reached forward and took her hand, drawing her watery eyes to my face. "Why are you crying?"

"I . . ."

Her mouth twitched while open, trying to form words and failing. She was scared, I could feel it though the flat of her palm. She didn't like this - she was so used to being sick. Hell, in school, some kids called her Miss Terminally Ill. She'd grown up with people staring at her, wondering what could possibly be wrong with her. She was accustomed to it. _It_ was her life.

Now that it was being taken away, she was slowly being left with nothing. She didn't know what to do.

"Oh, Bella," I sighed again, and reached out, pulling her head into my chest and holding her close. How could I have been so stupid? Of course she would feel this way - it would be like me losing my legs without anyway to get a wheelchair or prosthetics.

She cried into my shirt for a while, and I just held her, kissing her hair and running my hand up and down her back. I felt useless, like one of those fake drawers under sinks. They were only their for decoration, a pretty item to ensure unity, and had no real purpose.

How would I ever be able to fix this. In bringing her everything I thought she needed, I'd taken away all she knew, all she really wanted.

"They probably wouldn't give me the scholarship anymore, anyway," she slurred into my chest. I furrowed my brow, refusing to move us from our comforting position. "I think they were only offering it to me for looks - a big 'up yours' to other colleges."

I didn't know how to respond to that. Could a college really think that way - to give someone an education just because they were disabled?

Of course they would.

She pulled out of my arms, dabbing her eyes with the rim of her Aerosmith shirt. "Now," she sniffed, and looked at me with puffy red eyes. "Why did you _really_ get me up this morning."

I took a deep breath. I had to come clean; I had to tell her.

"I did something bad," I said, keeping my head bowed, ashamed.

"Cryptic," She muttered, and I could practically hear her eyes roll. I tried to repress my smile at that.

"You're going to want to kill me,"

"What did you do?" She was frightened of my confession now. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her press herself against the door of the car.

I put my face in my hands, building the courage.

"I had sex,"

The silence was pregnant.

The only sound was that of Bella pulling on the handle of the door and almost falling out of the car. I looked up, startled, to see the door slam and Bella start to stalk away.

I hesitated for only a second. Should I go after her?

_Yes, you dumbass!_

I jumped from my car and ran to her side, grabbing onto her arm to turn her around. She'd gotten stronger already, and was able to break free from my grasp. "Don't you touch me," She hissed, and I recoiled. Her voice dripped with hate, sparked with deadly venom.

"Bella -"

"Why, Edward?" She yelled. She's started crying again, her cheeks flushed pink and dribbled with clear rivers.

I couldn't answer that.

"I thought we were -"

"We were what, Bella?" It was my turn to be mad. For the moment, anyway. "I'm not very convinced you want anything!"

We were making a scene, the morning commuters peering out their windows to stare at us at the red light. I didn't care.

"You're not showing you want anything, either!" She snapped.

"I've done everything for you!"

She choked, her head jumping back, blinking rapidly. "I never wanted what you offered in the first place," she whispered.

We fell silent, and the traffic moved on.

My heart was broken, and my mind was bleeding.

"I don't care," She said after a while of me staring at her and her looking away. "I don't care who you fucked, alright?" Her dark eyes flashed up to mine. Bella crossed her arms under her chest, teetering with her weight on one foot.

I swallowed. I was forgiven? Like that?

I must have looked confused - stunned, even - because she smiled sadly up at me. "I'm guilty of an innocent crime, if that makes sense."

"Who'd you fuck?" I asked sarcastically, still hurt.

Her eyes slid shut, her breathing slowed. Calming herself.

"No one, Edward," She said, her voice smooth and wispy like smoke. I felt like I should lean into her, let her wrap herself around me, just by the texture of her tone. She opened her eyes slowly. "Alice kissed me,"

And then I was laughing, because this woman confused me to no end. First, she was pissed at me for hiving sex, as if we were together. Next, she was telling me she'd kissed her sister. That didn't count for anything.

Unless it was tongue. Then we had a problem.

When I'd quieted my chortles, I looked down at her. And I grabbed her arms, pulled her to me, and claimed her lips.

~*~*~

_**Isabella Swan - Age Eighteen**_

A month after our tiff and makeup in the Yogurtland parking lot, my stitches were gone, and Edward and I had committed ourselves to each other. Neither of us had said "boyfriend" or "girlfriend" yet. Perhaps we weren't ready. I tried to tell myself it was because no one asked. Everyone already knew us, so we couldn't introduce each other as our significant.

For a month, he snuck into my bedroom at night. For a month, we teased each other. For a month, I would beg him, I would cling to him. For a month, I tried to get him to have sex with me.

And for a month, I failed.

I could tell he was still having doubts about how I felt for him. I wasn't entirely sure, to be honest. I buzzed when he was around, wept when he touched me, and craved his presence. I wanted his lips always on my flesh.

I wanted to wake up next to him like I have for the last month. I wanted him to hold my hand like he had for the last month. I wanted to listen to him, I wanted him to listen to me, as we gabbed on about everything and nothing, like we had, all the way into the wee hours of the morning for the last month.

Hs parents had found him sneaking out one night when they weren't quite asleep yet, and Esme thought someone was trying to break in. Carlisle almost hit his own son with a metal bat. Needless to say, Edward had to explain everything to his mother and father.

Not surprisingly, they were alright with it. Edward had crawled through my window the night after my stitches had been removed, a stupid smile on his face as he tried to hold back laughter. "Esme just gave me a pocketful of condoms for us." He'd chuckled hoarsely, his sides already hurting from laughing all the way over here.

In retrospect, it had been pretty funny to know that my unofficial mother thought that her son and I were doing it.

The condoms had been stored in the bottom, hidden compartment of my jewelry box, hopefully for later use.

And tonight, Edward let me use his arm as I pillow, his fingers twisting in my hair as he stared straightforward at the dark ceiling. I snuggled closer into his side, reveling in his warm and welcoming scent. I felt like a caterpillar in a cocoon, the blankets wrapped tightly behind me and Edward's warmth on my front.

Edward had plugged his iPod into my stereo earlier, turning it down to a reasonable level so my parents would think I was sleeping to the sound of the soft songs. The song changed to Coldplay's "42". At the switch, Edward shifted, rolling towards me. He took a deep breath and kissed my forehead.

"What are you thinking about?" I whispered, debating on whether I should kiss his chest or not. He wasn't wearing a shirt tonight, much to my pleasure.

"You," he replied, a smile on his voice. I kissed his chest slowly, and felt his flesh breakout in shivery bumps under my lips.

"Mmm," I grinned, lifting my head to look at him, "What about me, exactly?"

He thought for a moment, not looking at me. "I've just been noticing things,"

My brows pulled together, "Like what?"

"Well," he started, stalling, "you're . . ." I knew what he was trying to say, so I smiled and shook my head.

"I'm getting better. I've _gotten_ better," I said for him, and he smiled and nodded, happy that I'd taken the weight of the words off him. "You can say anything, Edward. You're not going to hurt me,"

He took another breath. "You cried over it in my car, Bella,"

I bit my lip and hesitated. "I'm alright now," I said slowly, nodding. "I'm accepting it. I really am. Things are weird, but in the good way."

He chuckled quietly and bent his neck to kiss me. I smiled into his mouth, moving closer to him. I laid one of my legs over his, holding myself up with my elbow. When we pulled away, my eyes were still closed, and Edward's fingers danced up my back under the Aerosmith shirt that he loved so much.

"Tomorrow I'm going to take you somewhere," He said over the instrumentals of the song.

I opened my eyes. "Not Yogurtland at five in the morning again." I said, grimacing. It had been yummy at the time, but I'd gotten sick later that day from all the sugar. It hadn't been the healthiest breakfast.

He laughed, and his hand went flat against my back. I bit back a moan by nibbling on my lower lip. How could the simplest of all touches throw my libido into overdrive like that?

"No," and he kissed my nose.

"Well, where?" I asked, slightly breathless. He caught the sound and his green eyes flashed dark in the moonlight. My eyelids lowered at the primal look in Edward's eyes, and he shifted so I was straddling his naval.

"It's a surprise," he said, his hands on my waist. I groaned at his answer. I hated surprised. His hands tightened on my hips. "You'll like it," He promised.

I wasn't paying attention anymore. Instead, I was trying very hard to keep my elbows locked and supporting me over Edward. "Bella?" His voice called, and I pealed my eyes apart, not realizing I had shut them in the first place. "Are you alright?"

"No," I trembled, my stomach rolling.

"What's wrong?"

"I - I don't know," I gasped. He lifted me off of him and set me next to him on the bed. He sat up besides me and rubbed my arms.

"Your lips are blue." He said once he'd turned on my bedside lamp. Our eyes widened at the same time, but for two different reasons.

"I'm going to be si -"

I turned my body and retched over the edge of my bed, Edward holding me so I wouldn't fall over and rubbing my back. I dry heaved, my ears ringing, as nothing would come up. I gagged and cried, as it felt like forever until I could get my stomach out of my mouth and for my abdomen to stop convulsing.

I shook, letting out noises that sounded somewhere between short, clipped moans and that of a child in pain. Edward was still rubbing my back. I wasn't sure if it was over or not.

"Are you alright?" Edward whispered again, and I shook my head, my eyes wide.

"What was that?" I asked shakily, unable to move because of shock and the relief that came after one emptied the contents of their stomach, though nothing had actually come up.

"I don't know. Have you been feeling sick?" He moved me, turning me around and setting me carefully in the center of the bed to face him.

I shook my head, wiping my dry mouth. He handed me the water bottle from my nightstand. "Not until now," I said after I'd had a swig. My throat felt as if someone had lit five matches inside of it.

"You alright now?" He asked once I'd finished half of the bottle. I would have downed the whole thing if I hadn't thought I would start dry heaving again. I nodded slowly, running my hand over my face.

"I'm fine," I sighed, and looked at the clock. "It's midnight already?" I huffed.

Edward turned off the light and pulled me close to him again, gently laying me against his side. I swallowed hard, and turned my head to look up at him in the dark. He was staring straight ahead again, but with a sudden spark of purpose in his green eyes. His brow was creased with deep thought. I wanted to kiss the lines away.

"What if . . ." He started, but trailed off, sighing heavily.

Sudden worry flashed through me, "Now you have to tell me. What?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he spoke, his voice tight. "What if it's a bad sign - like your body had a delayed reaction to the stem cells?"

"But I'm getting better," I argued, lifting myself slightly off the bed.

"Maybe it's the frataxin, then," He muttered, covering his mouth with his hand and watching the lid of my bedroom again. He started mumbling in long, strange, doctor-ish words. I gave up trying to decode them when he said something with more than twelve syllables.

I pressed my cheek into his chest and stared down at the foot of my bed, impulsive horror filling my veins. _No_, I thought_, no, I can't lose this yet_.

Edward had given so much to me, endured so much, to get me better, get me to live. There was no way this could be related. It _couldn't_ be related. I wouldn't let it be.

* * *

**A/N:** Woo! Pretty early update, if you ask me.

What do you think Edward' surprise is? And no, it's not Yogurtland.

Please review!

-R.I.


	10. Love and a Grass Room

**A/N: **My, my, lots of you enjoyed the video for this story. For the few who didn't see the Author's Note I posted, go to my main profile page and check out the video I made. It's horrible, but I tried.

My schoolwork has decided to make itself known after the last week and a half of procrastination. My French project is moving along, but now I need to find the time to work on my ceramics project due in four weeks that I just _know_ I won't get done. Anyone know how to make French Toast out of clay?

Thanks, as always, for Shanda. Without her constant nice words and questions, I think this story would have ended up just to the right of the recycle bin.

**Song:** "White Flag" - Dido. After enduring the teasing from my classmates for having Dido on my iPod (yes, I know my friends have no taste in music whatsoever), I realized that I _couldn't stop listening to it_ while writing this chapter. Well, this and "Naked as We Came" by Iron & Wine. And pretty much every other Iron & Wine song I downloaded this weekend. They're just _so good_. Oh, and "Collide" by Howie Day. Forget it, just all the songs on my freaking playlist.

**Credit: **Jess for her lovely part in this story. _The Cake Eaters_ for getting me obsessed with FA, and giving me inspiration when I feel pathetic enough to sneak over to our DVD collection to grab the movie.

**Disclaimer: **_Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Constance, Texas is a fictional town created by yours truly. I'm taking creative license on this story.

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Love and a Grass Room**

_**Isabella Swan - Age Eighteen**_

When I woke the next morning, Edward Cullen wasn't at my side. My sheets had bowled around my head and arm, where Edward's body had served as pillows. I let myself lay there for a moment, staring out my window at the gray day. It felt like late morning to me, warm and humid. Pasted to the back of my neck was my hair.

I breathed in the sticky air and rolled onto my back, surveying my room. Edward was leaning into my closet, looking through the hanging clothes. I watched him for a moment, enjoying the swell of muscle under the skin of his arms, the way his back rippled with his lithe movement. My mouth fell open with an audible _pop_ and Edward turned, a crooked and knowing smile on his face.

"Good morning," he whispered, tugging a shirt from a hanger. "Wear this," he said and tossed me the fabric.

I caught it easily. We both smiled involuntarily before I held up the shirt and sighed. It one of Alice's designs - purple and low-cut and clingy around the waist and bust.

"You've never worn it," He pointed out, coming over to sit beside me on the bed. I smiled, reaching out for him, dropping the shirt. His chuckle was low as he leaned slightly over me and kissed me slowly. Our lips seemed to adhere together like sticky tape, neither of us willing to break our connection.

"If you insist, I'll wear the shirt." I muttered after he pulled away only slightly. Our lips were still touching and I could feel the smile grace his mouth when it did.

"What about breakfast?" I asked as I sat up in bed with Edward's hand trailing down my side.

He shrugged. "Don't worry about it, I've got everything covered,"

I sniffed, "Not Yogurtland?" He laughed and I did too.

"No, not Yogurtland,"

I bit my lip, a blush climbing to my cheeks. "Can you turn around while I change?" I asked sheepishly.

"I've seen you naked before," he argued, but turned anyway.

I pulled the Aerosmith shirt over my head and sighed at the bright light of the window hitting my bare skin. "We were like six, Edward, that doesn't count."

"Either way," I felt him shrug behind me. I stood and moved to go towards my dresser, when I realized that path would lead me into the eyes of Edward. I covered my chest with my arms and walked forward anyway, the only piece of clothing on my body being my bikini-cut underwear.

I heard his intake of breath as I pulled open my top drawer and I thought my body would burst into flames from the blush covering my skin. I pulled my bra from the clean socks and underwear.

"Keep your eyes to yourself," I squeaked when I turned to find him staring at me with those killer eyes that made my stomach tighten into a hot coil.

It took me three tries to get the clasp closed on my bra because I could still feel the burn of Edward's gaze. He had refused to turn around "after my little stunt," so I had to keep my back to him instead.

"These," he said, and passed me a pair of jean shorts with giant rips in them. I would have gotten dress coded for them before I even got to school because of how short and torn they were. And I'd bought them that way.

It was another article of clothing that I'd never worn outside of the house before.

I tugged them on after the shirt. Biting my lip with only a moment of hesitation, I opened the secret drawer of my jewelry box and pulled out one of the aluminum packets. And then a second. Then I slipped them into the front pocket of my shorts and let Edward sit me down and kneel in front of me. He slipped my feet into my new flip flops and we both smiled at each other. They would have been hazardous only a month ago.

He must have snuck out while I was sleeping and went home and packed a bag of clothes, because he pulled a deep green shirt and shorts on as well.

He pulled me onto his back like he had a month ago and climbed down the pine. He set me in his Volvo and kissed my knuckles as he started the car. "Before we go," he said, and leaned over to open the glove box. Edward pulled out a red handkerchief.

"No," I protested, but he only smiled and wrapped the piece of fabric around my head anyway.

"Can you see anything?" He asked with a smile in his voice.

"No," I said, "and I don't like it,"

"Just enjoy it, Bella," He whispered in front of my lips. His breath smelled like mint and mine hitched in my throat. Edward kissed me and then I felt the car start to move along the road.

"Why can't I see where we're going?" I whined, crossing my arms under my chest.

"You never liked surprises," He said, easily detouring my rant.

I shook my head, a reluctant smile slapping onto my face. "Never have, never will,"

"That's apparent," he grumbled. I felt the car make a left and stowed the turn into the back of my mind. I'd lived in this tiny town my entire life - there weren't many places he could take me without my knowing.

We stayed mainly silent for the next few minutes of the ride, Edward telling me about the gloomy day. "It looks like it's going to rain, but it won't," He said once, sounding awfully sure of himself. When I told him this, he only laughed and kissed the back of my hand.

He'd made another left and then a right by the time I caught on. The asphalt turned to gravel on the next right turn and I gasped.

"The lake?"

"How'd you know?" He sounded sarcastically hurt as he parked the car.

I pulled the cloth from my face before he could stop me, and smiled at him. "There's only one way for me to not know where you're taking me,"

"And what is that?" He asked. I waited for him to get out and open my door for me before answering.

"Well, I've never been outside of Constance, besides Houston. I've got this place memorized," I waved the thought away, leaning against Edward without thinking. He wrapped his arm around mine and held my hand. It felt so similar, so easy.

"I'll keep that in mind. How about Rome?" He paused as we walked, heading towards the dock. "You like Italy right?"

"Sure," I said, laughing slightly. "The pictures Alice bring back are beautiful, aren't they?"

The lake was a popular skinny dipping spot for all the high schoolers - and some middle schoolers - in Constance. During the night, the water was pitch black, reflecting the right stars like a mirror. But now, in this melancholy light, it was clear enough that I could see the sand under the small ripples. The lake was rather large, and I was sure that when I was younger that it was actually younger than our town. It got deep enough for boats to tug their way out into the clear waves.

The dock was thick and had to be over a hundred years old, the wood bleached almost white from the sun. Our feet clicked on it as we reached the study steps.

Edward abruptly snaked his arm out from mine and ran down the long paneling, and I watched, open-mouthed, as he dove head-first into the translucent water. Shoes and all.

I laughed as he broke the surface, holding my fingers to my mouth. He shook out his hair and motioned for me to jump in after him. I started forward slowly, taking my time, but he stopped me, shaking his head.

"Run," he called out to me.

"Are you kidding me?" I wailed in disbelief. The last time I ran anywhere was . . . Well, I was pretty sure it was elementary school. And to tell you the truth, I was scared. I remembered how it used to be - the shock my feet felt as they slapped against the ground; running down the stairs on Christmas morning before the bear that was Emmett would shove Alice and I aside. The only thing remotely close I got to running after the age of ten was sticking my head out the window of a car.

"Just _run_, Bella," He sounded exasperated and I almost wished that a gallon of water would flood his mouth for a moment so he would shut up. "Come on, I'll catch you,"

Looking to the side, I bit my lip, and watched as one lonely car drifted along the road a while away from where I was standing. It disappeared into the dense ferns and trees of Texas foliage and I looked back down the dock, to Edward's wet coppery hair.

"Come on," he urged, a smile on his lips, and he held open his arms.

I bent carefully and tugged my shoes off one by one and tossed them back in the grass at the steps of the small pier.

And then I took off, feel awkward and silly, but half way down the thick wood, I started laughing. I felt the wind caress my cheeks and the bare flesh of my neck. My long hair whipped in the air behind me, twisting into tiny tangles. As I reached the edge, I made eye contact with Edward, and flung myself towards him.

For a moment, I hung in air, suspended by a string that was knotted in the heavens. And I was laughing, and Edward was hooting at me. And his face never looked so bright and happy.

I fell into his arms, my fall taking us both under the surface of the water.

Which was _cold_.

My entire body tensed, my skin tightening over my bones, as the chill seeped in and soaked through my thin clothes. Edward's hands were on my sides, holding tight and pulling me towards air.

After years, I'd pretty much forgotten how to swim.

We broke the surface together, our mouths open in a gasp, and he grinned at me. "See?"

"See what?" I asked back, tilting my head slightly downward so I could see him. Water stuck my hair to my face, and he lifted a secure hand from my waist to smooth the strands away.

"You're fine. You've _been_ fine. There's nothing for you to worry about."

I smiled at him, moving my hands to his shoulders. He thought I was going to kiss him, when instead I tread water and shoved down. His head went under with bubbles from his nose.

"You're going to pay for that," he threatened when he'd come back up, and I squealed as he, despite the depth beneath us (we couldn't touch the bottom of the sandy lake), lifted me slightly and spun me around, his palms pushing the purple fabric of my shirt up.

I forgot completely about how cold it was when his lips landed on mine, and his hands started to explore my chilled skin.

Starting with what he had already exposed: my legs and stomach.

We'd moved deeper into to the lake, taking place in the center of the marked-off swimming area. The gloomy day had warded off any others from coming down for a swim in the frigid waters, though the air was heavy with heat and humidity. The fact that we were alone only gave me more reason to kiss Edward the way I wanted to, the way we only had behind my closed bedroom door at eleven o'clock at night.

Even with the water, we were able to find purchase on one another. How Edward kept us afloat was beyond me, but I didn't mind as I wrapped my legs around his waist and let him wear me like a backwards life vest.

His hands were warm, so very welcoming in this water. His chest was warm, too, I found, when I'd pushed the fabric up to bunch under his armpits.

"Bella," he muttered, and something resonating in his tone told me to pause. To halt and let him speak. "I have to ask you something,"

He seemed to be waiting for a response, so I kissed his throat, leaning my head against his wet shoulder.

"Why did you forgive me so easily? With screwing around, I mean,"

I hesitated, thinking this over. I _should_ have told him to never talk to me again, to never _touch_ me again. I should have. I didn't.

A very small part of the reason I forgave him was because I still wanted what he'd given so many other girls: I wanted _him_, all of him, regardless of how many or who he'd given himself to.

The rest was important. Very important.

"I didn't want to let you go that easily," I whispered, my lips brushing his skin. He tasted like salt and boy and weeds. "People don't change, Edward, only habits do. I want to be a new habit for you." I paused, "And if you had to go screw some random chick for me to realize that, then so be it."

He was silent for a long while, and I wondered if I'd made any sense at all, or if I had just made a complete idiot of myself. But then he turned his head, a crooked smile on his lips, and kissed me.

"Would you like breakfast now?" He asked, and as if on cue, my stomach growled between us.

"Yes, please," I giggled, and let him swim us to the left shore of the lake.

It was overgrown with tangled weeds and ferns and wild southern flowers, a blistering mix of orange and purples. The undergrowth reached to my waist, and I wondered how often people came to this side of the lake. The trees were unkempt, their branches hanging down with the weight of leaves that needed to be pruned. It was natural and wild, peace at work in our little Texan town.

"Where are we going?" I asked in surprise as he suddenly started leading us into the untidy bushes and leaves. I wondered if my flip flops would still be by the dock when we returned from our adventure.

"You'll love it," was his response.

I was wet and my toes were sticking in the sand and dead leaves, my hair a tangled mess at the back of my neck, and I wasn't feeling up for climbing through the Texas forestry. I'd seen some cockroaches and bugs in my time, and I didn't want to see what other species of insect had mutated out here.

He placed his hands on my hips, where the skin was still exposed, and led me from behind. We wound our way deeper and deeper into the brush. "How far are we going?" I asked, and turned to look at his face.

"We're just walking along the lake, Bella," he chuckled low in his chest and leaned forward, touching his lips to the corner of my mouth. "Just relax,"

And I did. I let myself enjoy our little walk, with Edward' hands holding me only inches in front of him. I could feel the zap bouncing between our damp skin and the short distance, making me squirm with each step. The day was muggy and Southern, and I couldn't wait to change clothes or take a shower.

Edward had better ideas.

~*~*~

_**Edward Cullen - Age Eighteen**_

When I was fifteen, I picked up one of Esme's many romance novels and began to read. After two chapters I realized why women loved the books so much.

One, the guys were incredibly and "unbelievably" perfect and handsome.

Second, they were either monsters of men, or romantics, giving their loves whatever they wished. _Wherever_ they wished.

It was cheesy and disgusting, but girls liked them. So I went with it today.

This morning I'd snuck out of Bella's arms and went home, collecting every blanket and pillow I could stuff into the passenger and backseat of my Volvo. I'd drove down to the lake, and made five loads out to my spot.

Now, this little clearing I'd had since I was six. No one knew about it, to my knowledge, not even Bella. I never told anyone about it, because it would ruin the magic of the place. I'd stumbled upon it one day while swimming with the family - and the extended family that was the Swans. It had been in full bloom, covered in wild spring flowers. The grass was soft like down fur, and I'd laid in it until Esme called me back down to the water.

And today, I was finally going to show this place to someone. _My_ someone. Somehow it felt good to say I had someone - even better that she was my best friend. It was a new feeling for me. Since I was twelve, I'd only wanted girls and then wanted for them to get away from me. Hell, it didn't seem like the girls I touched wanted much more of me, either.

Bella wanted more, even if she was unaware of it. I saw it in her eyes every time she looked at me, I could feel it between our lips and skin when we kissed, when we held each other. She wanted me just as much as I wanted her.

I'd fucked up, badly. But I knew she was this person that was called a "soul mate" when she forgave me so easily. She should have punched me in the nose and kicked me while I fell over. She didn't, and the fact that she would even take me when I was so tainted said something incredible about her. I would never reveal my actual "number" to her, but it was over twenty-five.

When she kissed me in the water and let me hold her, she was like a slick mermaid who had just been granted legs and wasn't quite sure how to use them yet. She had tasted like sweat and mint, urging smiles from my face. In this gloomy of all days, I had never felt so bright.

So I knew there was a certain time when I needed to ask her _why_, why still give me a chance with her. When I finally let the words spill from my mouth like the droplets accumulating on her bottom lip, I was sure my heart skipped beats.

She hesitated too long for me, but I let her think, kicking my feet lightly underwater to keep our heads above water. "I didn't want to let you go that easily," Bella finally said, so quietly I had to strain to hear.

I took her words in slowly, and felt like tearing my heart out and handing it over to this sodden angel in my arms. She already had it - she'd _always had_ it, since we were children. I'd always loved her, I just never knew it was able to love her this way.

It hurt and it thrilled me.

I stopped suddenly, holding Bella by the hips, and pulled her the short distance back towards me. She leaned into my chest, letting out a soft sigh. I smiled and kissed her wet hair.

"Alright, we're here," I said, and turned her to the left, away from the lake, and held aside the overhang of leaves and dewy ferns. She ducked under my arm, and I smiled when I heard her gasp.

I followed her into the little hollow that had once been so much bigger. Now it resembled that of a small grass-and-fern room, the stalks of green growing up past our heads before curving into a sort of ceiling, opening up in the center to let the damp light in from the overcast sky. It smelled like green and earth, and in the middle of the cushiony moss-grass, I had laid out the blankets and pillows and next to the pile was a blue IceCooler.

I walked past Bella and opened the lid, pulling out a bottle of water. When I turned, she was still staring around in awe, her big doe eyes flashing every which way. I twisted the lid off and took a swig, content in watching her amazed expression.

"How did you find this place?" She asked breathily, moving to run her fingers over the verdant walls.

"I stumbled upon it when I was six." I said, nodding, "Of course it didn't look this good when I found it - I cleaned it up a lot over the years," She turned her astonished gaze on me, and a grin leapt onto her face.

"It's beautiful," She said.

I felt like shaking my head and telling her it was a stark comparison to her at that moment, but held my tongue. "Want something to eat?"

"What do you have?" Bella picked her way over to me, walking around the edge of the small clearing, the tips of her fingers never leaving a piece of green.

We sat down and ate cucumber sandwiches that Esme had been kind enough to whip up for me this morning when I told her I was taking Bella on a picnic. I was surprised to see my mother up that early in the morning, but I could barely make canned soup let alone a meal that would hold up in a cooler, so I gratefully accepted the offer.

Bella finished off her third half of a sandwich and smiled at me, leaning back on her elbows and staring up at our natural skylight. "You know," she said after a moment of peaceful silence, "I'm a little hurt that you didn't show me this, but I can understand why you kept it to yourself," She smirked at me to show she was kidding about being disappointed.

I smiled, polishing off the other half of her second sandwich. "It was my place to just come and relax, I guess. I never showed anyone. Esme doesn't even know about it."

Bella raised her eyebrows at me, nodding in stunned silence.

I plucked the used napkins from the blankets, brushing the crumbs from all the fabrics. My hands shook nervously, but my movement covered it from Bella. Hopefully. I packed the IceCooler, setting it aside.

And then I was by her, up close to her side. She looked up at me. I smiled, my eyes staring at the little white blotch that her teeth made on her lip as she bit down on it. I put a hand on the other side of her, and leaned down, kissing her lips carefully.

She tasted like cucumber and wheat and female and it just spurred me on. The kiss turned feverish, and she let her arms drop their support so her back was pressed against the blanket. Her fingers wound in my hair, one of her legs raising so her knee was between both of mine. Our skin was dry, but our clothes were still soggy and they clung to her flesh in a way that left almost nothing to my imagination.

We'd gone far, but I'd never seen anything under her bra and panties, and I was suddenly aching to see her whole.

I ran my hand underneath the hem of her purple shirt and up, bunching it up around my fingers as I went. I could feel the muscles of her stomach tighten under my fingertips.

But suddenly her lips stalled on mind, and her arms around my neck went rigid. I froze and pulled back slightly to access what I had done wrong.

She didn't give me a chance to find out what, instead sitting us both up completely and curling herself up, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"What did I do? Is this too much?" I asked frantically, running my own hands through my hair. Bella wasn't like other girls - maybe she just wanted a bed in a room. Maybe she was allergic to this grass.

"No. No." She shook her head and swallowed. "Give me a second. Everything suddenly became real for me." And she stood, leaving me alone and suddenly cold on the fabric.

She walked to the edge of the clearing, only six feet away, and wrapped her arms around herself. She ran a hand through her hair. She sighed. She took a deep breath.

I turned my gaze from her just as I heard that familiar sound:

She'd just unbuttoned her shorts.

Slowly, I turned, just to see her pull her shirt over her head. The muscles of her back rippled in a way that made my mouth water. I'd never seen her like this in a light area. I'd never looked at her like how I was - like I wanted to jump her and lick her throat. We'd only done intimate actions in her dark bedroom late at night, and I'd never been able to appreciate her smooth skin like I was now.

The purple fabric was dropped onto the soft grass at her feet. Then she reached back, and by the way she moved, I could tell she knew I was watching her. Her arms twisted and her fingers popped open the clasp of her bra. I heard her breathing shudder in her chest as she felt the chill that the air hitting her damp skin made.

I stood when she pulled the fabric and wire away from her and it joined the shirt on the ground. Her hands lowered stiffly to her side and she took a shaky breath.

I whipped off my shirt faster than I thought possible and walked up behind her, placing my hands on her hips. She tensed at my contact, but didn't push me away.

"Are you alright with this?" I asked in her ear, earning a shiver from her. She nodded, tipping back until she rested against my bare chest. I kissed her shoulder and allowed myself a peek down at her.

She was more beautiful than I would have thought. I'd peeked on her, I'd spied, I'd done anything and everything a naughty pubescent boy would have. I'd never been so close to her, and I'd never before felt this incredible urge to tear the rest of the clothing from a girl and just take her where she stood.

Her eyes were closed when I managed to break my eyes from her chest, and I kissed my way up her neck and jaw. Her skin was on fire from a blush, and her knees shook, but otherwise she remained completely still against me. "Bella," I whispered, nudging her jaw with the bridge of my nose, "are you sure you're alright?"

"Uh huh," she muttered, and turned her head, pressing her lips to mine. The kiss was swollen and heavy like her eyes, which were half-lidded. They didn't seem to want to stay open to slide closed on her marbled face.

I moved my hands around and pressed them against her naval and she whimpered against my mouth. "I'm scared," she laughed nervously when we'd broken away for a moment. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing,"

"Don't worry," I assured her, pecking her skin, "I know a lot,"

This, surprisingly, relaxed her. She trusted me with her completely. Her hands slid down my forearms and she threaded her fingers with mine over my stomach. "Be sweet," she whispered, her eyes trained on the grass beneath our feet.

"I promise,"

I brought her back to the blanket and laid her down on her back, careful not to make her any more uncomfortable and self-conscious than she already was. I tested her boundaries and finally let my hand brush over one of her full breasts, pulling a gasp from her throat. Her hands moved to my shorts, and she popped the button open before blushing scarlet.

"You're beautiful," I said, resting my forehead against hers.

She looked down without moving her head, avoiding my gaze. "Bella," I said, but she didn't return my stare. "Bella, look at me," She did this time, her eyes watery. "Don't," I said, and kissed her forehead. "You're perfect. You're supposed to enjoy this. If you don't want to -"

"No!" She blurted, her hands fisting over my stomach, as if she was expecting my shirt to still be there. Rubbing her lips together, she flushed pink. I could feel the heat from her skin.

"Then _let go_." I whispered.

It was her unraveling, her complete and utter release from her worries and reality. For now, it seemed, it was just us in our little grass room.

She let me shed her of her shorts, her hand darting into her pocket and back into my hair before I could see what she'd snatched up. I kicked my own shorts away, and then decided to make her squirm. She wanted me to be sweet, and I would give her what I could. This I knew she would enjoy.

"Edward, what . . ." She trailed off as I kissed just below her bellybutton. Her hands fell over her head, and she arched her back. Her reactions to my every touch were sending my brain and nether regions into a frenzy of want for this girl-woman.

Bella lifted her butt without realizing it, and allowed me to hook my fingers into the straps of her panties and slip them from her hips and down her thighs. I pulled them completely off of her before I even dared to look at her.

I suddenly feel as though hundreds of people are watching us, and every one of them is Bella, staring at me, daring me to make a wrong move. I refused to let myself hurt Bella anymore. I'd done enough for one lifetime.

I leaned forward and kissed her lips before moving down her body - wrapping my mouth around her collarbone, her sweet pink peaks, swirling my tongue down her stomach and into her bellybutton. I pushed her knees down so they were both pressed against the blanket. I reached the apex of her thighs and managed to take the next ten minutes in bringing her down the evolutionary scale, her letting out little moans and gasps and words that almost sound like my name.

I lapped at her tight tangle of sensitive nerves and she came for me, shuddering with the aftershocks while I continued to taste her, refusing to give up the amazing female flavor of her juices.

"Edward," She called out for me wearily, and I rose up over her, throwing her beautiful body into a shade. I kissed her and she moaned, threading one of her hands in my hair. I heard a metallic crinkle next to my ear, and broke away to see what it was.

Bella pulled the aluminum packet to her teeth and tore it open, looking almost afraid to touch the condom. I chuckled and pulled it from the packet for her. She shed me of my boxers and stared at me while I rolled the condom on.

I refused to get flustered by her eyes on me, and fit myself between her legs. I kissed her. "Alright?" I slurred against her lips, drunk with incredible want. My hard-on was almost painful.

_No, it _was_ painful_.

She nodded stupidly against my shoulder and bit her lip, closing her eyes. "Just relax," I whispered, and pushed into her.

Even with my experience, I had never taken a girl's virginity. It was strange for me - I had given it up like a piece of flypaper, yet I cared so much about girls doing what I had. Bella would at least have someone who could "be sweet" with her now.

So when I felt the resistance inside her, panic bubbled up in my throat. _This_ was the one part I wasn't particularly ready for. I could feel things snapping inside her, and buried my face in her neck when I saw her eyes screw up. She tensed around me, and I waited.

It felt like eternity before she tested the waters, shifting her hips towards mine. I groaned involuntarily, and she giggled into my skin. I smiled and pulled back to kiss her. "Go," she quietly said.

And I did.

Where I moved, she did, and she let me fall into a comfortable pace for both of us. It was slow and sweet like how I thought she wanted. I let her lead for a long while, letting her tell me when to move and when I should pause to let her adjust again. But finally - _finally_ - she gasped and nodded to me, and I took great care of her.

I made sure she was worshiped like she deserved, and paid attention to every sensitive point of her body. From her mouth to her throat, to her breasts and clit, I kept her equally wound.

Her muscles clenched all at once around me, and I moved so I could watch her this time. As she came, her eyes were wide open and she stared straight ahead as if she had seen God.

Perhaps she had.

I let myself go after that, and when I pulled out, she whimpered at the loss of out contact. I discarded the condom and pulled her to me. We were damp with lake water and sweat. She breathed through her mouth against my chest. I moved aside her dark hair to see her eyes.

She smiled weakly up at me, her eyes dropping. "Thank you," she breathed, and her hand swiveled south.

Two more of Bella's orgasms later, she finally told me to give her rest. She draped herself over me like she had no bones left, one leg over mine. The sun was burning away some of the cloud cover, and I guessed it was almost two.

I reached over and opened the IceCooler, pulling out bundle. I handed it to Bella and let her open the ends with one hand. She smiled up at me, breaking off a piece of chocolate and sticking it between her teeth.

I smiled and turned my gaze back to the sky.

* * *

**A/N**: First, if you're disappointed with the sex, bite me. It's not supposed to turn people on. It's _supposed_ to be awkward and strange and all around weird. It's both their first in a way, because Bella's a virgin, and Edward is having sex with the first woman he really cares about.

Alright, say it with me:

'_Bout goddamn time!_

I know, I know. But they're on a new level now, hurrah!

Please review!

-R.I.


	11. New Page

**A/N: **I have waited long enough to update this story.

Needed to skip some time, do not fear, everything _will_ pull together eventually! I promise.

**Credit: **Jess for her lovely part in this story. _The Cake Eaters_ for getting me obsessed with FA, and giving me inspiration when I feel pathetic enough to sneak over to our DVD collection to grab the movie.

**Disclaimer: **_Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Constance, Texas is a fictional town created by yours truly. I'm taking creative license on this story.

* * *

**Chapter Ten: New Page**

**June**

_**Isabella Swan - Age Nineteen**_

High school: the epitome of hell in my life. Those four years had been horrible, period. Junior high had been a walk in the park compared to high school.

And now, one year after graduation, I had to go _back_? I didn't understand the logic of the situation.

"You know you're excited," Edward said, letting me pop open the top button of his dress shirt. His hands were on my hips, his fingers gently raising the soft blue fabric of the dress I was wearing.

"No," I sighed, and finished unbuttoning his shirt.

We'd just finished getting ready at his house, Esme and Carlisle waiting down the hall in the bedroom to wish us well.

"Well, I'm excited," He sat back on the end of his bed - made up tight since this morning - and pulled me into his lap. I ran my hands over his toned chest and stomach, kissing his lips.

"Good for you," I puffed against his lips.

We shed the rest of our clothing.

Later, I examined myself in Edward's closet door mirror again like I had only thirty minutes ago. "My hair's messed up," I groaned, running my fingers through the falling curls.

"You look beautiful," he told me, and stood from his bed to rebutton his shirt. "Must I wear a tie?" he asked, and picked the material off the floor from where I discarded it earlier.

"The invitation said '_business casual to business formal_', whatever that means,"

He flung the tie over his shoulder.

"No one has seen you since school except for me." He said, and finished zipping up my dress for me. His warm finger lingered on the side of my breast for longer than necessary and I smirked at him in the mirror.

"I know," I huffed, "And I want to keep it that way. . . . What will they think?" I was scared beyond belief. I'd had all of one friend in high school - Edward - and in those days he spent almost every night with the girls in my math classes. Back then, the sunlight was for friends and the dark was for flings.

Now, he couldn't get enough of me, and I him. Every time it was new, like a spark igniting wildfires again and again. I was addicted.

And neither of us were complaining.

Edward scoffed at me, touching my elbow to turn me around. I laid my hands flat against his chest and looked up at him. "Who _cares_, Bella?"

"I care," I muttered, examining my fingernails.

"Listen," he said, and lifted my chin with his index finger, "you're _beautiful_, and no one can say otherwise tonight. I'm not gonna lie - everyone's going to look at you for a while," I felt my eyes widen at his words, "but they'll get used to it."

His words weren't exactly _comforting_, but I took them anyway, lifting myself up on my tiptoes to kiss him.

"At least Alice didn't insist on me wearing heels." I laughed as he tucked me into his Volvo. He chuckled as he got in on the driver's side. When he started the car, I asked, "Hey, so when are you going to teach me how to drive?"

He pulled out onto the road and looked over at me. His smile was radiant. "You want to learn?" He asked.

"Well, I'm able." I said, "I might as well."

"Wanna drive now?"

"What? _No_,"

He laughed hard, his face turning pink in the light of the dash. "Like I would just let you take the wheel of my Volvo."

I feigned offence, placing my hand over my heart. At the feel of the raised skin of my scar I sighed, looking down. The skin was still pink, and I looked like an autopsy patient. I wished that Alice hadn't given me such a low-necked dress.

"You're beautiful," Edward reminded me, taking my left hand in his. He threaded his fingers with mine backwards and placed my palm over the stick shift, moving both of our hands when needed.

"I look like they scooped all my guts out," I sighed, unable to not catch the reflection of my chest in the visor mirror.

"No, you don't, Bella,"

"Why are we going to this reunion, anyway?"

"So I can show you off. You honestly don't know how insanely proud I am to have you by my side," He smirked, keeping his eyes on the road.

I lowered my eyes to our hands, and felt my heart sputter inside my chest. "It'll be so weird," I whispered.

He nodded stiffly, but didn't reply besides a reassuring squeeze of my fingers.

The lights of the high school came into view, a banner that looked like it had been made by the freshmen leadership class hanging over the wooden doors into Main Hall. _Welcome back, Class of 2008!_ It read in the school's colors: teal, silver, and bright blue.

Constance High School was the oldest school in Constance, Texas. Built somewhere in the 1930s, the buildings had amazing architecture. The front doors into Main where carved oak, the handle a shiny gold from being used so much. As well as the school being built in the '30s, it hadn't actually been renovated since then. I'd heard through the grape vine from Charlie that they were going to install air conditioning in the gym this year.

I could see a few people exiting cars alone, and a girl wheeling a stroller into the doors. I wondered how anyone's life could change so much in one year that they would have a baby already.

But then again, hadn't _my_ life changed immensely in only a few months last summer?

Edward pulled me from his car, and gently pushed me slightly in front of him when I tried to lean into his arm, as if to form a façade of what once was. His palm was hot against the small of my back, and I suddenly wanted to get as far away from this high school as I could.

"You're beautiful," He whispered in my ear, his breath warm on my hair and neck.

"Will you stop saying that?" I snipped back, feeling the blush cover my body from ears to toes.

"It's true,"

Whether it was or wasn't, I was still the center of attention as soon as we walked into the gym. The entire room almost went silent, only a few stragglers who hadn't noticed me from the back still carrying on a conversation.

A few smiled at me, and I remembered their faces from classes. Acquaintances, almost friends. A few glanced away, that way that everyone has at avoiding paying too much attention to handicapped. They wanted to stare at me, even after all these years of my awkward and strange gait and way of moving. They wanted to analyze my movements and why it hurt to bad when I wrote dictation.

I wouldn't let them think that way about me anymore.

I grabbed Edward's hand and led him towards the table of snacks. The crowd parted for me as I led the way, hauling the gorgeous boy behind me, as if my disease was contagious now.

_Now_ the room was utterly and completely dead silent.

Edward poured us cups of punch and sniffed his before sipping it. I eyed him, desperately trying to ignore the burn of the stares trained on us.

"Someone spiked it," He shrugged, and a nervous laughter trilled through the mass of adult students.

"Oooh," I hummed, and took the plastic cup from his hands. As I sipped it, I hung on Edward's arm and let him mingle with what seemed to be every single person that was attending the reunion. No one paid too much mind to me when Edward was talking.

I found myself enjoying it after the second cup of punch.

At some point, the almost-fail-out James What's-His-Name came over and clapped Edward over the shoulder, an ugly crooked smile on his face. The fiery-haired Victoria strolled up next to James after a moment.

She had been the woman with the buggy.

I guessed the couple was beautiful in their own way. Victoria looked like a gipsy model from Europe, her arms and legs as spiny as her wild hair. A colorful splash circled her head, a scarf that jingled between her shoulder blades with pieces of aluminum coins. James was grungy and set off Victoria's high fashion look with a worn leather jacket and motorcycle boots.

Inside the stroller was a bundle of blankets and a child's face that looked like a moon.

"Hey there, Ed," James said, and I noticed that he wasn't looking at Edward at all. His piecing blue eyes were trained on me.

I wondered if he'd worn that same pony tail since freshman year.

"James," Edward greeted with a nervous smile. His arm tightened around my waist. "Victoria!" He welcomed warmly, giving her an awkward side-hug because I wouldn't let go of his arm.

My knees felt weak.

"Bella," James said before Victoria could return Edward's hello, "you're looking good,"

Edward pulled me closer.

"Thanks," I muttered, and sipped on the pink punch. It suddenly tasted old, as if someone had used rotten fruits to make it. "You too,"

James was talking again, but the world was spinning. My hand shook and the plastic cup slipped from my fingers. The liquid splashed onto the baby and Victoria's feet, and they both let out a yelp at the same moment.

I tried to apologize.

Pushing away from Edward, I stumbled towards the bathroom.

"Bella!" Edward called after me.

The teal door clicked shut behind me with finality. I locked myself in the handicap stall and braced myself against the tiled wall. The stench of Permanente marker scrawled on the wall clogged my throat and I resisted the urge to gag.

I hadn't had that much alcohol. I doubted I had enough to make me this sick. I went to wipe at my clammy forehead, only to halt my movements at the sight of my own hand.

"Oh no," I whispered, my voice oddly light and calm as I took in the sight of my crippled hand, "It's back."

~*~*~

"Bella?"

I groaned, not wanting to open my eyes.

It was cold.

"Bella? Bella!" Something rattled, and I tried to bat the sound away with my hand. "Open the stall, Bella,"

Edward's voice. My eyes snapped open.

"Edward?" I whispered.

I was still in the bathroom stall. It was clean because it was summer and they'd cleaned every corner of the school by now.

"Yes, Bella. Come on, open the stall."

I licked the roof of my mouth and leaned forward to unlock the stall door. And when I did, I sat back on the wall, too tired to move any more than I already had.

"My back hurts," I muttered as Edward looked through the door. I reached back and pressed my fist into the curl of my spine between my hips and whimpered as it stung.

"Come on, Bella, let's go home."

I let him stand me up and lead me from the bathroom, saving me from the mass of people still in the gym by taking the back door.

"What happened?" He asked as we approached his Volvo.

"I don't know . . ." I sighed, leaning my head against his shoulder. "I just felt sick, I guess," I paused, letting out a cry as I remembered. My hand, my fingers curved into the locked position they had been in for ten years. "Edward," I whispered, staring straight ahead, "It came back."

"What came -" he broke off suddenly. Realization dawned on his face before he shook his head. "They told me - they told me that stress could bring it back. Just little onsets of it. It's not back, Bella,"

"What if it _is_?" I said under my breath, unable to make my voice any louder. He set me in his car, but didn't reply. "Edward?"

"It's not." He snapped, and I recoiled slightly back in my seat.

I swallowed, and put my hand on my back again. "My back really hurts," I whimpered. His green eyes flashed over to me before quickly returning back to the road.

"I'll look at it when I get you upstairs." He told me. I relaxed back into the seat, comfortable now that I was out of seeing range of everyone. I was antsy to get this dress off. The fabric was cool against my skin, but after my strange episode during the reunion, my skin had been sheeted with a thin layer of sweat and now the dress felt stiff and clingy.

My parents knew Edward and I were intimate with each other. Hell, once or twice, I knew they could hear us from their bedroom down the hall, though we both tried to remain quiet. And, strangely, they were okay with it. They were uncomfortable with it, but okay.

They accepted that I wasn't their little girl anymore, at least.

Edward walked me into his house, unlocking the door quickly. Esme, who had been curled up on the couch sketching with charcoal, stood up at our entrance.

"That was a short reunion," She said, wiping her blackened hands on a square of fabric.

"Bella wasn't feeling well," Edward said. I noticed Carlisle, who had been watching CNN, watching me intently. "So I decided to bring her back,"

"Feel better, dear!" Esme called when Edward rushed me down the hall to his bedroom.

"That was rude," I teased when he shut his door.

He shrugged, making a face as he unbuttoned the first button on his shirt. "This thing is so uncomfortable,"

"Well, we know you won't be a good businessman," I smirked, and sat down on his bed. Sighing, I let myself tip back until I was laying down, my legs hanging off the edge. I turned my head so I could watch Edward. He'd pulled his shirt from his shoulders and was now pulling his belt from the loops on his slacks.

"Oh, let me see your back," he said, remembering again. I scooted up higher on his bed and rolled onto my stomach.

"It's my lower back," I said, and pulled the edges of the dress up over my rear and to the middle of my back. I heard Edward gasp, and I smiled.

"Bella," My smile vanished. His voice was horrified, frightened.

"What?" I asked, panic rising in my throat.

I felt his fingertips brush my spine gently, as if any more pressure would break me. "You have a bruise the size of my fist." He flattened his hand against my skin, his palm flat and his fingers splayed. "And it's black,"

I swallowed, resting my hands under my chin and pressing my lips into them. "What does that mean?" I asked through my hands.

There was a long silence. The only thing keeping me above water was the electricity passing from his hand to my back.

"Something bad." Edward finally said.

I closed my eyes tightly, and tried very hard to forget. This wasn't right - not for today. Pealing open one eye, I checked his bedside clock. This could be put off for four more hours.

Today was Edward's day.

I rolled over, causing his hand to brush around my hip and finally lay on my lower stomach. I looked up at him, reached for him. He lowered himself over me, kissing my lips once before resting his forehead against mine.

"It's okay," I told him, running my fingers into his hair to keep him close, "to not worry about me right now," His mouth closed over mine, and he stole my breath away.

He was on the bed now, his knees on either side of my hips, his fingers pushing the fabric of my dress even higher until I lifted myself up and let him pull it from my shoulders. It flew over his shoulder just as I felt his hands slip under the wire of my bra.

He sat me up like a doll, letting me sag against him. He sat back and pulled my legs over his thighs, sitting me between his legs. I breathed against his neck, running my nose back and forth across his skin. Reaching back, he unclasped my bra and gently pulled the straps down my arms before discarding it carefully over the side of the bed. I pressed my knees against his sides, pulling myself closer to him. He locked his hands behind my back. He jumped when I winced, quickly moving his hands higher up my back.

I saw the look of pain in his face, though his green eyes were closed, and slid even closer to him on the bed. Threading my fingers through his hair, I laid my other hand on his muscled stomach, my thumb making circles around his naval. He kissed me slowly, and I lowered my hand to the button of his slacks. A small smirk formed under my lips and I opened his pants, taking the zipper tooth by tooth.

"Happy birthday, Edward," I said softly, nuzzling my face into his.

"Thank you," his voice was low, distracted. His hands were now preoccupied with my breasts, palming them gently and rolling my tight peaks between his fingers. I moaned into his skin, wishing that our pesky clothes would disappear.

He seemed to sense my sudden wave of desire, because he stood quickly and shed the rest of his clothing like they stung his skin. I shimmied out of my underwear and he was lifting me up so I was over him, his back resting against the headboard.

My breathing erratic, I held myself over him, my hands pressed against his shoulders and chest. His hands rested on my hips, and he stared into my eyes as he settled me over him.

As if his entrance forced it from me, I groaned into the air of his room, hoping his parents were still downstairs or deeply asleep down the hall. I felt him shudder under me, his fingers tightening on my waist.

He guided my movements over him when I felt my knees would be too weak to lift me up and bring me down. The waves of pleasure surging through my body were mind-blowing, intensified amazingly by that odd, prickly electricity that charged the air around us and turned my bones to jelly.

I let out a sound between a grunt and a cry of desire as his lips closed around my left nipple. His hand left my hip and gave my other breast attention while his tongue worked me to the point of no return.

My orgasm was so intense that my elbows gave out and I fell onto his chest, my chin locking over his shoulder. He kept moving until he finished to, and even as he stilled, I continued to ride out my waves.

He kissed my neck and flipped us over, carefully lifting my hips so my lower back wasn't against his bed. He moved over me, kissing my lips and everywhere else on my body. His hands were everywhere, _everywhere_. I was dizzy by the time he entered me again, and I didn't know how the world could still be spinning with the way I was feeling.

"Bella," he murmured into my ear, his hot breath so delicious I almost came right then and there. "Let me hear you,"

Up until this point, I had been holding back my calls for the sake of being found out by his parents. They knew we together in every way, but knowing they _knew_ what was going on at that moment was embarrassing beyond belief.

But his words, his breath, him moving inside me, and just the stress of the day, broke through my carefully built-up wall, and I let out the most primal moan I had ever heard myself make. He licked a trail under my jaw to the hollow under my ear, growling and possessing me.

The night was incredibly long and short in the same way. We made love in every way we felt like. During one of our lulls, Edward was going to run down the stairs to get us some water and just about everything in his fridge to refill our energy. He had pulled on some sweats and looked out his window to see that the family car was gone.

"Which means," he's said with a crook of his eyebrow, "they're probably at a hotel. It _is_ four-fifty,"

I covered my face with my hands, shaking my head. "Oh, I feel horrible. We made your parents get a hotel room. They fled their own _house_!"

He laughed, which caused me to laugh, which caused Edward to turn possessive over me again, and all thoughts about water and snacks were gone.

~*~*~

It was ten in the morning the day after Edward's birthday when we pealed ourselves away from each other long enough for us to take (separate) showers and get some clean clothes on. Though I had nothing better to do, I needed to go home sometime soon.

I wasn't supposed to stay over at Edward's, but I was sure my parents wouldn't mind.

Edward wanted to follow me across the street and see me to the door, but I was afraid that we'd end up in my room in nothing but our skin and too preoccupied to pay attention to logical needs.

Like food and water.

Instead he kissed me sweetly at the door and watched as I floated over to my house, and behind the door. There I leaned against it once I'd closed it, resisting the urge to squeal like a little girl.

Edward and I had been together many times before, but we had never been so carefree as to just let ourselves go like we had all night long.

My legs and arms felt like they were made from rubber.

And my back hurt like a bitch.

I knew Edward wouldn't have let this go so easy, so I assumed he would bring it up later today or tomorrow, and maybe even have Carlisle look at me.

Before doing anything more, I went straight into the downstairs, hallway bathroom and lifted my shirt. I turned and choked back a cry.

Edward hadn't been lying. The skin of my lower back was stained like someone had spilled a well of ink on it. I pressed my fingers to the dark spot, expecting it to be either numb or incredibly painful. The latter seemed to be the answer, and I yelped, taking my fingers quickly away.

I considered for a moment going back to Edward and asking him to take me to the hospital. This shouldn't be happening. _This shouldn't be happening_.

Before I could act on it, I could hear Renee calling out for me, wondering if I'd made it home finally. Dropping the hem of my shirt and smoothing it back over, hoping no one could tell I was in pain or could see the horrible bruise splattered against my back, I stepped out of the washroom and into the kitchen across the hall.

Renee smiled at me. She had grown younger since I'd gotten better, decreasing in age by ten years. Her eyes were sparking with the energy I imagined she had when raising Emmett and Alice. Even her hair seemed to have a charged liveliness that glowed around her youthful face.

"Hey, Bella," she said, and her tone told me she wasn't upset about me coming home this morning instead of last night. "Guess who called this morning?" Suddenly, she reminded me of my older sister, vibrating in place with barely-contained excitement.

Seeing my mother this way, so happy, so much like _herself_, brought a grin to my face. I walked over to her, and hugged her before I asked her who had called. I caught her off-guard, but she quickly wrapped her arms around my torso. I squeezed and she returned the favor. She smelled like perfume and old fabric and . . . _Mom_.

"Who?" I asked once I'd pulled away. I made a bee-line for the fridge and pulled out the first to-go box I got my hands on. When I turned, Mom still looked stunned at my out-of-nowhere hug. "Who?" I patiently asked again, tearing the box's lid off and setting it in the microwave for five minutes.

"Grandma Jo," she squealed happily. I felt my face light up as she continued: "She's coming in from Corpus Christy right before the Fourth of July. She says it's been too long since she spent The Fourth with everyone."

Grandma Jo was Renee's mother, a southern oil queen who'd married into money without knowing it. Papa had died before I was born, but he had made sure that Jo and their daughter were well taken care of. She was the only grandma I knew, and as a child I was incredibly attached to her. She moved to Corpus when I was eleven, leaving me with a lucky gold ring that she told me to hold to my heart whenever I was missing her.

Now that she was coming, I'd have to dig through the top drawer of my desk to find that ring.

"Does Dad know?" I questioned, pulling the steaming box from the microwave. It was shrimp Alfredo.

Charlie wasn't exactly Grandma Jo's favorite person in the world, but she'd accepted that Renee had married him. Jo would have much rather had Renee marry into money like she had, but she believed that you loved who you loved and that was final.

"He actually picked up the phone," She told me, stealing a shrimp from the sauce and leaning against the counter with me. I nodded as I chewed, enjoying the comfortable silence between us.

"Alice coming back in?"

She nodded, taking the fork from my hands and spinning herself a wad of noodles. "Hey, I'm eating this," I quipped, laughing quietly, before taking back my fork.

"Emmett, Rose and the kids too. Oh, Bella, I'm so glad everyone's going to be home,"

"Me too," I smiled, and forced back the question of inviting the Cullens. The Fourth of July was usually a tight _family_ affair, and although Esme, Carlisle, and Edward were our _extended family_, I wasn't sure if Renee or Grandma Jo would want me clinging to Edward all night long.

I sighed quietly, finishing up my meal, tossing out the trash, and let my mind drift to the first July Fourth of fireworks, sparklers, barbeques, and American patriotism without Friedreich's Ataxia.

* * *

**A/N:** Oooooh, what's wrong with Bella? Don't get your hopes up thinking you know what's going on - you probably don't. Tell me what you think, though! I'd love to hear your ideas.

Anyone see the foreshadowing at _all_?

And who thinks they'll like Grandma Jo? And you think Jo will accept that Edward is with Bella? After all, she's known both of them all their lives.

The suspense is killing me.

Please review!

-R.I.


	12. The July Fourth Incident of 2010

**A/N: **And now for some major angst. Ready? You better be.

I can't believe I forgot last chapter: _Shanda!_ Love you, doll.

At the bottom, I'll explain why it's taken so long. ;D

**Credit: **Jess for her lovely part in this story. _The Cake Eaters_ for getting me obsessed with FA, and giving me inspiration when I feel pathetic enough to sneak over to our DVD collection to grab the movie. _All the lyrics in this chapter are the property of Blue October_.

**Disclaimer: **_Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Constance, Texas is a fictional town created by yours truly. I'm taking creative license on this story.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: The July Fourth Incident of 2010**

_**Isabella Swan - Age Nineteen**_

"Well, I don't see anything _physically_ wrong with you other than the bruise," Carlisle said, snapping off his gloves. I rolled my shirt down and sat back on the couch. He looked into my eyes, "And you're _sure_ you didn't hit yourself on anything?" I nodded silently, rubbing my hands down my arms self consciously. "Well, there's always many things that aren't seen with the naked eye," he sighed, pulling off his glasses and depositing them on the coffee table.

We were in the Cullen living room, with Edward pacing behind the couch I was sitting on, making me want to turn around and slap him to get him to stop moving. But I stayed put, letting the man who had became my second father throughout the years think. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before looking back up at me and started talking. "I've seen bruises this bad associated with leukemia patients -"

The room was suddenly spinning. I could tell that Edward wasn't pacing anymore, but stunned into stillness and silence like myself. Seeing that the color had drained from both of our faces, Carlisle quickly tried to amend his words. "Now, don't jump to anything yet," he held up his hands, with his palms out, like he was surrendering, "I'm only telling you what I know. Cancer could be crossed out with a blood test. And with the same sample, we can look for anything unusual,"

His voice was like that of any doctor, comforting and reassuring. He had been trained to sound like this, to make the patient feel like they were welcome and should trust them. I had never felt so sick in my life.

_Cancer? I could have cancer?_

~*~*~

Renee and I picked Grandma Jo up from Houston-Hobby International Airport on July third at exactly 11:41 in the morning. I knew this only because I was annoying my mother by asking if Jo's plane was in yet, if she could see the flight number on the board, if that was Grandma Jo, right there. So when I saw her red-gray hair through the crowd of people coming down the stairs, I practically bowled her over.

"Why, look at you!" Jo exclaimed, hugging me never too tight against her. She smelled like strong perfume and makeup powder and my childhood. She held me out at shoulder length and examined me in a way that didn't make me blush because this was Grandma Jo, and she did this to everyone. "Darlin' look how pretty you've gotten! Not like you weren't beautiful before," she winked at me and I quickly took hold of her carry-on bag.

Only when I swiftly took the handle from her hands did she notice the way I moved. She hadn't seen me since I was sixteen, but my FA had been bad even then. "Isabella," Jo said, a breathless astonishment lacing her tone. When I looked up from my hands at her, she had her hand over her heart. "Dear God and Heaven above!" And she threw her arms around me again, and whispered thanks to God and Jesus, while I silently placed Edward's name between her words.

"Mama!" Renee was suddenly there, affectively averting Grandma Jo's attention for now. There was comfortable chatter from Grandma and Renee as I searched along the moving belt until I found Grandma's big black suitcase. I could only tell the difference from the bright yellow ribbon she tied to the handle. I lugged it from the conveyor belt and pulled up the handle before rolling over to them.

"Really, Mom, how long are you staying?" Renee asked as she took in the tank that was the suitcase behind me.

"Oh, I guess I like bein' prepared, Renee!" Grandma Jo replied, her eyes lingering on me as I wheeled everything out to Renee's car. "So, Bella, dear," she started when we were safely buckled in and on our way home.

"Hmm?" I responded from the backseat, looking out the window for a moment. Here comes the long, two-hour drive.

"Even the religious woman I am, I know that my prayin' didn't get you so better." She looked at me in the rearview mirror and I felt my face heat up.

Thankfully, my mom came to the rescue and spoke for me. "Well, Bella's got herself a little lovesick puppy dog," she began, and I blushed a deep shade of red, "who you know as Edward Cullen,"

"That boy across the street, now?" Jo asked and I nodded, not meeting her eyes.

"Uh huh," Renee continued, "The story's long, and I probably only know half of it, but Edward did some research with the help of his father, who, as you know, is the chief of medicine at the hospital, and suddenly, we found that he was a match for a stem cell transplant. When Bella went in for her heart surgery, they did the transplant and she got better faster than anyone expected."

I tried to stay silent for the rest of the trip home, only adding my two cents when it was needed. Instead, I let my mind work at full speed as I tried to think ahead. Carlisle told Edward and I it would take almost a month to get the results back because Constance didn't have the most up-t0-date laboratory and my blood samples had to be shipped to Houston to be examined. The bruise on my back was yellowing around the edges, but otherwise was still as black and painful as the night of the reunion was.

_Cancer_.

Evil, horrible, terrifying word. Never as scary until the prospect of it being directed at _you_, that you might _die_ of this painful thing that takes over your body. I'd lived eleven years thinking I was going to die until Edward finally smacked my denial right in the face and turned my view of life around.

Even after all of that, those long years of nervous system degeneration and the pain in my feet and the problems with my heart and the emotional torture I went through, I would have lived it all over again. These weeks of waiting to see whether or not I had _cancer_ was far, far worse than years with Friedreich's Ataxia.

I'd have to go through chemotherapy. I'd lose my hair. My hand unconsciously reached to my shoulder and pulled the silky strands through my fingers, over and over again until all the tangles were gone. I hadn't cut my hair since I was seventeen, and now it fell to the middle of my back. Edward loved my hair. And I loved it when he threaded his fingers through it and kissed me.

If I really thought about it, if I took into account all the symptoms I knew about leukemia - the fatigue, the bruising, the paleness, and weakness - then I could pick out little things about me that pointed towards that horrid diagnosis. I'd been pretty worn out, and normally I would have thrown that up to the mind-blowing sex with Edward. But _what if_? The bruise was the worst I had ever seen before in my life. I'd always been pretty pale. Had I gotten paler, or was that my imagination?

But I knew that if I went _looking_ for these things, I was bound to _find_ them.

_Cancer_.

~*~*~

_**Edward Cullen - Age Nineteen**_

_Cancer_.

Oh God, no. Not Bella.

When I saw her on Fourth of July morning, I was determined to not think about our troubles, at least for today. Her grandmother had been kind enough to invite my family over for their little event of BBQ food and illegal fireworks that Emmett bought from a friend on his side of town and Charlie pretended not to notice because even a cop liked good fireworks.

Bella waved from the crack in her front door at 9:22 in the morning, and I didn't care whether or not it was twelve hours until we would be setting off fireworks. I headed over to her, quickly wrapping my arms around her waist. She stepped fully out onto the porch and shut the rickety door behind her. I leaned in to kiss her and she welcomed me warmly and for a moment, I was able to forget about everything we've been through and what we may have to face, and just be with Bella and kiss her.

"Edward . . ." She sighed, and I noticed for the first time the purple bags under her eyes and her eyelids rimmed with red.

"What's wrong?" It felt like someone was squeezing my heart to the point of exploding and it was suddenly very hard to breathe.

Bella let out a sob and buried her face in my chest, rubbing her cheek against the fabric of my shirt. I kissed her hair, unsure what to do while she cried except for hold her and hope to whatever was listening that I wasn't going to lose her.

_Why her, dammit?_ I wanted to scream. My arms tightened around her, as if that would stop anything more from hurting her. I kissed her head again, and wished _I could stop everything_ and just make it _better_.

Goddammit.

"What are we going to do?" I caught between one of her cries and I wanted to say something - anything - but couldn't find my voice or an answer. There wasn't an answer that would make her feel better, anyway, so I simply held her and kissed her skin where she let me.

She had just allowed me access to her lips when the front door behind her swung open, and there stood Good Ol' Grandma Jo, just as I remembered her. She had lighter hair than Renee, but the resemblance was there. I'd never seen pictures of Bella's grandfather, so I wouldn't know whether or not Renee looked like him or Jo. But this woman, with her love for chunky belts and jewelry and the welcoming wrinkles both from age and smiling on her face would be what I imagined Renee to look like in about thirty years.

"Edward. It's good to see you!" She threw herself between her granddaughter and I, giving me a squeeze around the torso that I returned. One glance at Bella's guilt-ridden face and I knew she hadn't told anyone.

I was at a war inside. I knew what was _right_ - that Bella should have let her family know that she could possibly have cancer. I knew what she _wanted_ - to not have Renee flip a shit and get all protective like she had Bella's entire life. And we all knew Charlie would just internally revert even further until he just stopped expressing any kind of emotion.

So I kept my mouth sewn shut, letting the information eat away at me until I was sure there was a gaping whole where my heart should be.

Alice showed around four o'clock, doting even more clothes for everyone so she was sure we all had at least ten pieces of her own, personal designs. I'll admit, she had an affinity for dress shirts that I quickly snagged up and thanked her for.

She gave me a knowing look and a kiss on the cheek, murmuring a "Thank you," in my ear. No one noticed.

At some point, I found myself alone in Bella's room. The family downstairs had decided that, instead of staying home and barbequing like every year, they were going to go to the town 4th of July event. There was a band playing that I had forgotten the name to, but Bella had practically screamed when she heard they were here, in this tiny town.

I stood in front of her desk for a moment, staring at the little trinkets that had become part of Bella. A delicate chain with a ring on it. Half of a pumpkin gum eraser. A chipped, uneven bowl that she made in ceramics freshman year before her hands got too bad, filled with pencils and pens that had probably never been used, even now. The corner of a worn and personal journal that my hands made their way to.

This was wrong, opening this cover and reading Bella's words. She didn't write like a normal person would in a diary. The first date told me she started this journal at the beginning of sophomore year. She'd gotten into tearing and cutting pictures out of magazines and pasting them onto the pages, scrawling out little captions to explain her reasoning. This would be the only way for her to keep a diary without causing pain to her fragile hands.

As I flipped through, I learned of her depression in junior year. She had taken half a bottle of Charlie's blood pressure medication before chickening out and forcing herself to purge only two minutes after swallowing. She'd written down the exact time she'd taken them - 4:27 PM. Two pages later was just angry black scribbles and stains of saltwater. I skipped this section completely, my head starting to throb at the thought of losing my Bella.

Just after senior year, something turned around for her. She seemed almost determined to write entire passages, her writing looking like a lie detector test. For nine pages, she just wrote lyrics from songs I'd never heard:

"_Blue skies,  
__Calling on blue skies  
__Don't take them away, boys. . . ."_

"_Now here we are,  
__We're licking skin to wipe us clean.  
__Strike a match, pour gasoline,  
__Ditch the scene, and watch the city burn. . . ."_

"_I dreamt you seduced me just to walk away.  
__I dreamt you inspired then rewired what I say.  
__I dreamt you spread you bottom wings and pulled me to the bed,  
__But I woke up feeling nauseous, you danced around my head. . . ."_

And suddenly, I realized, as I turned the page, that those lyric chunks were from last year, right after our time in my secret area. I smiled, so glad I had been able to make her feel like these verses.

And then they changed drastically, but the dates were strange. These dates were from before her heart surgery, and only one after.

"_I kick the daydream,  
__And remain independently happy.  
__I'm independently, I'm independently,  
__But you know, I'm still working on happy. . . ."_

"_I wish I could go to sleep  
__And wake up with amnesia. . . ."_

"_A heartbeat skip, relationship,  
__Inside a bubble bath  
__An icing drip below your lip,  
__So we undo the math. . . .  
__I might crumble, I might fall again,  
__Still missing you. . . ."_

And her longest:

"_Learning to love life by living through loss and mistakes,  
__Lessons learned, then gradually surfacing,  
__Letting go, stripping naked to scream.  
__I am not perfect, nor do I strive to be,  
__I am alive in this world of face-first falls and public breakdowns.  
__I'm a Retarded Disfigured Clown,  
__Dying to be heard for the simple art of letting this heavy wall finally fall.  
__I'm an equal being, of no race or color,  
__A hallucination, if you will.  
__Sneaking into the lives of strangers, and letting them fall apart, to a new rhythm,  
__Just to feel better."_

"What are you doing?"

I slapped the journal shut and dropped it like it burned my fingers at the sound of Bella's voice from the doorway. I looked up at her, guilt clogging my throat and a radiant blush covering my cheeks.

She walked over, and picked up her notebook. "Were you reading this?" She didn't even wait for an answer. "Edward, this is private," her voice, so thick with hurt made a knife twist inside my gut. She threw the book across the room, knocking her alarm clock off her nightstand, her hands going to fist at her sides. Not looking up at me, she stood trembling, looking so vulnerable standing there, like I'd taken off her clothes and skin and left her exposed to everything.

"Bella, I'm sorry . . ." I whispered, and moved to touch her, but she flinched away.

"I hope you found what you were looking for," Bella snapped, and then she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her.

Even as I'd been caught red-handed, reading her clandestine and personal thoughts, I itched to pick up her diary again and write down those lyrics. But I forced myself from her room, planning on searching her out. Instead, Alice was standing in the hallway, waiting for me.

"You're the only one I can trust with this information, but I plan on loosening up my sister a bit tonight, okay? I brought some Italian liquor that Jasper introduced me to; the stuff's amazing."

I just stared at her, unsure what I should say or do with this news. "And?"

"And you're going to take her home and ruffle her feathers like you've never done before, because she deserves it - and you two are hiding something big, again, from all of us, so you both need to keep your minds on each other for right now."

When I continued to stand there like an idiot, she rolled her eyes as exasperatingly said, "Just keep an eye on her and the first time she makes a move for you, take her home." And then she walked away, too.

Running my hands through my hair, I made my way down the stairs. In the living room, I looked for Bella, but she was gone. When I asked about her, Charlie told me she went for a walk with a pointed glare that blatantly read "_Fix this_."

Before anyone could stop me, I was across the street and in my Volvo. There was no way I was going to let this boil over. I found her on the road towards the lake and pulled over on the side of the road, pulling the keys out and running over to get to her side.

For a while we just walked, the tension sizzling between us. Bella was the first to break the silence, and what she said completely kicked me mentally.

"I think we have too much sex,"

_What_? The sex was incredible - there had never been a woman that could make my fingertips burn just by the simplest touch. Being connected with her rendered me breathless. And she thought we were having _too much_? I could never get _enough_! Was it not as good for her as it was for me.

"Please, elaborate," I said a little bit hysterically. I had to admit, going longer than two weeks without some sort of intimacy with Bella would need me in rehab.

She thought for a long while, and we turned down the dirt road towards the lake. "I just want our relationship based on something more than the sex. You saved my life, Edward. I don't want you thinking I'm only with you because you gave me my first orgasm."

"I did?" I found myself saying, like a typical horny boyfriend. Well, that made me feel . . . How did that make me feel? Either she tried giving herself one and it didn't work, or she just never tried.

Rolling her eyes, she nodded. "You mean a lot to me, Edward." She whispered, and moved closer to me. Her arms were still crossed under her chest, but she was closer. And at this point, that's all I could ask for.

"I'm really sorry for reading your journal, Bella," I told her, trying to get her to look at me, but she seemed set on keeping her eyes straight ahead. The gravel crunched under our shoes in the lull of conversation. "I'm not mad, or anything you're probably thinking, at you."

"I don't think you're mad at me," she explained, but when I waited, she didn't continue.

"Then what?"

"You're not disappointed? That I've considered, and even tried, to commit . . . Suicide?" The word burned my ears as much as it hurt her to say it.

"Of course not."

"You're not upset that, even after a prospect of getting a life, I still wasn't sure if I wanted to even live? You're not mad that, at the age of thirteen, I got the courage to pull that goddamned trigger, but Charlie had taken away his bullets, so I couldn't do it? You're not mad that I _knew_ you spied on me went we were younger and awkward, and I didn't scream at you? You're not mad that I've had dreams of smothering Renee just to shut her up?"

"No," I answered immediately.

Bella stopped and turned to me, resting her hands on my chest, but keeping me half and arm-length away. "_Why_?"

The question was simple, and the answer was even easier. _Because I love you_. That's why.

"I love you, just the way you are, Bella," I said.

Her eyes spilled over with tears and she buried her face in my shirt, breaking the space between us. I sighed in relief, wrapping my arms around her. She cried for two minutes before I picked her up and cradled her to me. Closer to the dock, I danced with her in my arms, and after a few minutes, she started laughing, and I started laughing. She played with my hair, and I pretended to drop her, and I knew that _this_ was what we were.

I fell back in a patch of grass and she laid her head on my stomach, staring up at the blue sky. "I love you, too, you know," she whispered, and I twisted a strand of her silky hair around my finger.

"Do you really think we have too much sex?" I asked hesitantly. I earned a hysterical laugh from her chest, and she shook her head, telling me there was no way she was going to live for longer than a week without me.

She could last longer than me, then.

~*~*~

_Ugh_.

Why had I drunk so much last night? Well, I hadn't, but I didn't realize the kind of stuff Alice had brought - Italian white liquor. I didn't even know they had made that kind of alcohol. My throat still burned from it.

There was a sigh next to me in the bed. Hopefully Bella hadn't drank any of that stuff. As of what I knew, she had never been drunk.

I pealed open my eyes and sat up in the bed, finding myself completely naked, next to the pale, warm body of . . .

_Alice?!_

* * *

**A/N:** ;D Cliffy.

I was going to put a whole 4th of July scene in, but I didn't want to. Too much, too much, too much!

Now, to explain. One, I'm going to start a new story. Don't hit me, but I'll let you know when the prologue and the first chapter are up. I'm liking it, but I'm not going to give up on _Remembering Sunday_.

Two, I went to the Bite of Las Vegas (yes, I live in Viva Las Vegas, babies!) with my friend, and we enjoyed the best concert ever. Who, you ask? Why, none other than _Blue October_. That's right, and it only cost eight bucks. The show was amazing; never before had I thought a man who was married, whore eyeliner and nail polish, and had a kid, was sexy. Justin, you're sexy. No doubt about it. I got a guitar pick, and met Matt and Ryan (bassist and violinist/violist) and they signed my "Dirt Room" bag. I technically was within five feet of Jeremy, Justin's brother, but I didn't realize it was him until he was gone. My friend knows the band personally, so this ought to be fun.

Now, for those of you who have only heard Blue October's singles, you need to go buy their CD's, because they're so dark and deep and just a story of a guy's life in music and lyrics. Depression beyond belief, and when Stephenie Meyer said "you have no choice but to feel the emotion in the songs," she was 100% correct. Go listen, my pretties.

Please Review!

-R.I.


	13. All I Get

**A/N:** So I've been sick. Icky. I hate being sick. Though I stay home from school and have all the time in the world to write, my muse gets thrown away with every tissue.

I've missed all your lovely reviews. Where did you all run off to?

**Credit: **Jess for her lovely part in this story. _The Cake Eaters_ for getting me obsessed with FA, and giving me inspiration when I feel pathetic enough to sneak over to our DVD collection to grab the movie.

**Disclaimer: **_Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Constance, Texas is a fictional town created by yours truly. I'm taking creative license on this story.

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: All I Get**

_**Isabella Swan—Age Nineteen**_

It took forever, but the results were in. I held Edward's hands tightly in mine, not looking up at the unfamiliar doctor who would bring me the news that would either end my life or set me free.

She slipped her thin-rimmed glasses off her twiggy nose and let them fall around her neck on their gold chain. "Well," she started, and Edward and I both clenched at the same time, "I have good news. You don't have leukemia, or any other kind of cancer,"

A huge breath rushed from my lungs, and I sat back in my chair. I felt like laughing, like I could fly. The silver shackles were broken from my limbs and the film over my eyes finally peals away.

"But,"

_But_. There was always a 'but'.

"But, your white count is a little high. It could be an infection, it could be nothing. Have you gotten any more bruises?" The doctor leaned forward in her chair, resting her chin on her laced fingers, her elbows on her desk.

I shook my head, picturing the spot on my back that was only still blue over my spine. "The other one is clearing up,"

"I think our best option is to just sit and watch you for a while, see if anything new comes up." And then she smiled reassuringly at me, and I trusted her.

Edward and I left the hospital hand-in-hand. I sighed, breathing in the heavy air of a fast-paced Houston, Texas. "You know," I started as he led me towards his Volvo, parked under a pretty purple-blooming tree, "I've never actually got to see this big city," I leaned over and plucked a big puff of purple flowers from a low branch, "I was always in a hospital room."

"Hmm," Edward mumbled, and I looked sideways at him. He was watching me, leaning up against the passenger side of his Volvo. There was a line between his eyebrows that I'd gotten all too familiar with since the Fourth weekend. I dropped the bushel of flowers and walked over to him, leaning my body against his. I kissed his lips, furrowing my brows at his late response.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked lightly, smiling to try and lift his spirits. We'd just gotten some of the best news in the world, and he was upset. What could be troubling him?

"Nothing," he said, but his beautiful green eyes were distant as his arms locked around my waist.

"Did I do something wrong?" I whispered hesitantly.

Edward's far-away eyes were suddenly round and focused on my face. "Of course not," he said urgently, and kissed my mouth.

"I love you," I told him, resting my forehead against his.

"I love you, too." And then he said something that made the hair on my neck stand on end, "I'm just scared I'm going to lose you soon,"

"I'm not going anywhere," I pressed my lips to the corner of his, molding myself into his body.

After a few minutes of strange emotional tugging and some of the most painful kisses of my life, he lifted his head and offered to take me around to enjoy Houston. I agreed, but only under the condition that we not go home today.

Charlie and Renee still didn't understand why Edward and I had come down here - they believed it was related to Friedreich's Ataxia, and I guess they didn't see the need in coming if it seemed I was cured. And I was a big girl now. Which was fine with me, because I would have never gotten to experience everything Edward showed if they had been here.

He took me to an Italian restaurant called Piatzo's that had delicious asparagus with chunks crab covered in a cream sauce. He took me to the Galleria and we ice skated, luckily without me breaking anything. He took me down the block to the Williams building and we stood in the mist of the water wall, kissing and being with each other. And then we laid in the grass and stared up at the top of the blue building as the sun set, the clouds moving so fast through the sky that it looked like the glass structure of the Williams building was falling towards us.

I lay, pressed against the prickly green grass with even my palms flattened against the earth, watching the head-trip above me, when Edward obscured my view.

"Let's get married."

"What?" I sat up slightly, and he pulled me into his lap.

"I'm serious, Bella." he said, "Why not? I love you, you love me. This is what I said before your heart surgery, remember?"

And I do remember, like it was yesterday and not a full year ago: _"One day we're going to get married—like I said when we were like, six—and you're going to have lots of kids, and you're going to grow old with me, alright?"_

"Please, Bella," and he looked straight into my eyes, and our lips were only moments away from touching, "Please, marry me,"

On any normal day, back in Constance, without the amazing things Edward showed me, I would have told him to let me think about it. I would have told him that I wasn't ready, that I needed more time to adjust.

Today, all I cared about was how beautiful everything fell into place, right on top of us.

"_Yes_," I whispered, and he kissed me so hard I was sure I'd never be able to breathe correctly again. I fell backwards into the grass, and he covered me, sliding a knee between my legs and peppering my skin with his lips, teeth, and tongue.

My left hand was suddenly in his, and his mouth was too far from my skin to be legal. He stared at my face as I watched him slip the delicate-looking white gold ring onto my left finger. It was simple, with a twirl of small diamonds faceted in the surface. There was no "rock," and to that I was happy about.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him slowly, tasting his musky sweetness on my dancing tongue.

"Thank you," he whispered into my skin. The water from the wall across the park crashed into the pool beneath it, and I smiled up at the sky as he kissed my throat, his heat radiating throughout my body.

The sun was setting, lighting the blue building into a hot flame over us, catching the rays in its windows. I refused to shut my eyes to the beauty of the world around me, even as Edward stirred those agonizingly delicious feelings deep inside my stomach. The mist of the falling water floated over us, curling my hair against my neck and sticking our clothes to our skin.

This is what I always wanted to see, feel, and taste.

We were wed before the night was over.

~*~*~

The wedding night. _The wedding night_.

Oh, what had I gotten myself into? While sitting on the side of the bathtub, with my head in my hands, I realized this. This was my wedding night. Who ever knew I'd get married?

Once the park beside the Williams building had closed, Edward and I skipped off to the court building. We signed papers, we kissed even when they didn't ask us to, and we made our way to a hotel. There was no ceremony, no flowers, no Mom or Dad, just two police officers as witnesses, the pastor, and Edward and I.

Edward was in the room just outside the door, waiting for me. Around my finger was the completed engagement ring and wedding band, burning into my skin.

I loved Edward, no doubt. Was I ready to get married? Not by a long shot. The day had flowed into my head, soaked through my veins, and gotten me giddy. When he asked, all I could think of was how much he had done for me, how much I could _see_ now, and how much I loved him, adored being in his arms, and hung on every word and kiss of his.

And now I was married.

Mrs. Isabella Cullen.

It could work.

And maybe, if I told Edward how I felt about being a married couple, he would understand. . . .

Oh, who was I kidding? He'd be heartbroken, thinking I didn't _want_ to marry him. And I did—that's why I married him, right?—just maybe not right now. I was nineteen, he was nineteen, we still lived in our parents' houses, and didn't have any plan for the future.

Me, because I'd never planned for the future, because I never thought I'd have one.

Him, because he decided that I needed a future, and had become a part of my future because of it.

I wanted him in my future.

So I was married. To Edward Cullen.

And I would go out with a smile, because he was mine now. For however long he wanted me.

I stood from the ledge of the bathtub to stop in front of the huge mirror over the marble sinks. The hotel was extravagant, just how Edward liked. I stripped off my shirt from the day and threw it over the back of the toilet.

"Bella," Edward's soft voice called from the other side of the door, his knuckles lightly tapping on the edge. "Everything okay?"

"Yes," I said, almost breathless by the concern in Edward's—my husband's—voice. "I'll be out in a second."

"Okay," he almost sounded hesitant to leave the side of the door, but I heard his retreating footsteps while I tugged my jeans off my legs, draping them over the toilet, too. My socks were gone then, and I found myself trying to catch my breath as I looked myself over once more in the mirror.

I was so very plain. Just a light blue bra and bikini cut panties. No lace, nothing extraordinary. My body was nice, I guess. I'd always been healthy, but never like the girls at school, the girls I knew Edward had been with. The corner of my lips tugged down, my fingers brushing along the obvious scar on my chest, pink and raised. Even after a year, it hadn't lessened in appearance. And then there was the bruise on my back, the other scars from falling and injuries I sustained throughout my years. What did he love about me so much, this damaged body?

And then I remembered that he had picked me, that there was a ring around his finger too. We shared a last name, now.

It didn't help much, but my hand grasped the doorknob, anyway.

Suddenly the door was open, my hand having turned the knob. Edward was sprawled out on the hotel bed, tangled within the cloud of fluffy sheets and comforters. His auburn hair fell into his face, and his beautiful eyes were closed. He'd dozed off, his perfect lips parted slightly. I smiled and watched him for a minute, leaning against the door jam. His body was bare except for his boxers, and even his breathing caused the muscles of his back to ripple.

I couldn't stand the separation of us anymore, and moved towards the bed.

I slipped my weight carefully next to Edward, hoping not to wake him. I placed one hand on the other side of him, so I was hovering over his godlike back. And then I lowered myself so I could place slightly wet, open-mouthed kisses along his skin. After the third kiss, he hummed awake.

"Hi," he muttered under me while I continued to dot my mouth over his back.

"Hi," I replied, moving so I was straddling his lower back. My mouth was between his shoulder blades, making its way to his neck, to the corner of his jaw, and finally the edge of his lips. "You're awake," I laughed quietly, running my fingers up through his reddish-brown locks.

"I am," he sighed, his eyes remaining closed while I massaged his scalp. My thumb on his back worked against a stressed muscle and I earned a delighted moan from his lungs. "You're good at that," he told me, pealing one eye open to look up at me.

My only reply was to whisper a laugh in his ear, and then he decided that this just wouldn't do. Edward somehow managed to roll over so I was over his stomach, his hands pulling my body flat over his. He lifted his head just enough to kiss my lips for a second before he rested back and stared into my eyes.

I didn't know how long we stayed that way, just touching—each other's faces, arms, and stomachs—and watching. It was nice, that even though we were in his nice, comfy bed, alone, in a hotel miles away from our real lives, that it didn't turn into a lust-filled physical act. Instead, we were able to kiss without frenzy. And I liked it.

"So, Mrs. Cullen," Edward said at one point.

I groaned and rolled my eyes, covering my face with my hands. We were now laying side-by-side in the bed, one of my legs draped over both of his and his arm behind my head. "My parents are going to kill you, you know,"

He pretended to consider this for a moment before shaking his head. "No, _Charlie_ will kill me, because he has the guns. Renee will just help him bury me,"

I laughed and slapped his chest. Before I could take my arm back, he locked my wrist in his hand, and kissed my knuckles. "I love you, Bella," he said into my skin, and I moved so I was laying half on top of him, my wrist still in his gentle grip.

"I love you, too," I whispered, and pushed myself up to kiss him. His hands moved to the sides of my face, cupping us together in our own little world.

I wondered for a moment if he ever thought about how much he had changed. I never thought I would get here, in his arms—or anyone's, really. I never thought I would have been able to ice skate. I never thought I would be able to think about my future and not have the thought of my death constantly looming in the "Possible" for tomorrow's events. He had no idea how much he had helped me, brought me to life.

My hand was suddenly traveling down his torso lightly. I smiled as I felt his muscles clench under my fingertips. "You okay?" I asked with a smirk on my mouth.

"More than okay," he told me. My fingers danced between the "V" of his hips, just above his boxers.

"Hey, Bella?" He asked suddenly, before I could start anything.

I didn't remove my hand. "Yeah?"

"How do you feel about having kids?"

I rested my palm flat against his stomach, stalling. I knew this conversation would come up some time—did it have to be the wedding night?

The thought of Edward fathering my children made my lower stomach burn so bad I almost screamed. Who knew I'd have a fight between myself and my ovaries? I could see his babies now—green-eyed with that glorious auburn hair. If I had it my way, I would make it so that our kids had nothing of mine. They would be strict clones of Edward just because he was so perfect.

And this was the main reason I didn't want to have my own children. What _if_? was my question, always. What if Friedreich's came back? What if the bruise on my back was life-threatening? What if the doctors missed something?

_What if our kids had Friedreich's Ataxia?_

There was no way in hell I could bare to see my child go through what I had. There would be no perfect genetic match for them—I definitely couldn't donate stem cells, and even their father wouldn't be perfect enough for that.

So I found myself shaking my head, saying "No," while Edward's features fell.

"Why?"

And I told him everything, and he listened in an eerily silent way that made me trail off when I was finished. I stared at him, waiting for him to reply, when all he did was look up at the ceiling, his fingertips tracing feathery patterns on my bare skin.

"Please say something," I begged, touching his chin, trying to get him to look at me. "I want to have your kids more than anything, Edward. I just—I can't risk that."

"It wouldn't happen, Bella," he finally says, peeking down at me. "When I was tested to see if I was a donor match for you, I had them test me for something else. I'm not a carrier for FA, so there's no way our kids could have it."

This is true. Friedreich's Ataxia is a _recessive_ genetic disorder, and both parents had to be carriers to bare children with it. But since I had both genes, somewhere, no matter how long it would be until then, another person would be born when Friedreich's Ataxia. If I could stop that one from not having it—I would.

"They would carry it." I said, and kiss his chest. "They'd be like Renee and Charlie."

"But they'd _know_. They'd be able to avoid—"

"Edward, please stop," I keep my mouth close to his skin, hoping to keep his mind from this topic. "Can we not talk about this now?"

He muttered something under his breath, his tone angry as he ran one of his hands over his face. I looked up at him, worry creasing my brow. "What?"

"Nothing," he signed, rolling to get out from under me. I reached for him, but he was already standing from the bed, reaching for his clothes draped over the edge of the chair. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand.

"Where are you going at one in the morning?" I tried to keep my voice low, natural, as if I wasn't bothered by his reaction.

He tugged his pants on. "I don't know."

I sat up, moving to the end of the bed and grabbing for him, but he moved away. "What is your problem today?" I ground out, holding my hands out helplessly. "I've never seen you in such a horrible mood."

"Why do you like avoiding things, Bella?" He asked me, and pulled his shirt over his head. He was really going to leave.

My throat closed on me at the thought of being left here in this huge, unfamiliar city. "Don't leave," I begged with a squeaky voice, throwing my legs over the side of the bed and standing. He dodged my advances, stuffing his feet in his shoes and grabbing his car keys. "Edward,"

"Call me if you need me,"

"I need you now," I whimpered, finally catching his shirt in my hand. "Please don't leave," I felt humiliated for some reason. Maybe it was the fact that I was begging my new husband to not leave me on the wedding night in my underwear.

Edward hesitated at the main door to the suite, his hand on the gold knob. "I have to clear my head, alright?" And then he left.

I stood there for a very long time, confused, angry tears staining my cheeks. I shivered, cold in my thin fabrics, before I decided to take a shower to get the feeling of uselessness and unwanted off my skin.

I was able to get the water as hot as my poor flesh could bare and dropped my underclothes to the ground, way beyond caring at this point. The water stung and the steam clogged my throat, making me lightheaded, but I welcomed it, wrapping my arms around myself to keep everything from falling apart.

They may have stitched me up a year ago, but it now felt like my scar was going to tear open and my innards would go spilling out onto the floor of this hotel shower. I tilted my head down under the flow of water, my hair falling in sopping curtains around my face. The vapor was almost unbearable and I threw my head back for air.

The water here would not get cold, and I took full use of this fact, letting the heat loosen my muscles as I kept my mind completely blank of everything except for that image of Edward's children. His perfect little children.

It wasn't even an hour when he came back.

I heard the bathroom door sweep gently open, listened as his clothes dropped to the floor, and stood still as he pulled back the curtain quietly. He joined me under the heated spray, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"I'm so sorry," he said immediately, resting his chin on my shoulder. I ran my hands down his arms and threaded my fingers with his, but did not reply. "I shouldn't have left," he said, and I nodded deftly, turning my head just enough to brush my nose along his temple. "I'm so sorry," he said again, and peppered my shoulder with kisses.

His right hand started south, and my hand traveled with his. I let him kiss my skin and my head fall back onto his shoulder as he found my center. My knees were already shaking, and he'd barely started to move his fingers, so I rested most of my weight back against him as he started to work me. His thumb made quick circles around my sensitive bundle of nerves while he moved one finger deep inside me in a painfully slow motion. The different sensations of fast outside and leisurely inside sent me moaning his name into the fog encasing Edward and I in our own little world.

"Please," I whispered into the air next to his ear, and he obeyed, adding a second finger and then a third when I arched back for more. I took my free hand to my breast and rolled my hard nipple between my fingers, wishing for more friction. "More," I muttered, lolling my head to kiss Edward sideways. He sucked on the skin between my neck and shoulder, and rubbed my clit harder, finally increasing his tempo inside me, bringing me to an easy, over-powering release. I shook against him, shivering with the aftershocks and feeling his want for me pressed against my lower back.

If this was all I would ever get, it would be too much. Edward was just too perfect for me. Honestly, he could have had any girl on this earth and he chose _me_? How? How did that happen?

Everything. He was my everything. If he left me—

Everything I knew would be gone. If I lost him somehow, there would be no hope. He'd given me so much. _So_ much. He showed me that it was okay to plan and wish for something to happen in my future. He showed me that, even if everything was not set in stone, it was alright to think it was.

Even for a moment.

So as he turned me around and kissed me for real for the first time since he left, I let myself believe that nothing could go wrong, that he'd fixed everything in my life, my future. The past was unforgiving and no one could fix that, so I simply let him draw me over his thighs and take me against the wet shower wall.

If this was what I was destined to have, I would take it with clutching fingers. I would hold on to Edward as long as I could, let him ravish and take me wherever he wanted, because I certainly wasn't complaining about that part.

"I'll listen to you as long as you hear me out," he said in my ear as his hips ground against mind, his length hitting a spot that he'd never gotten to before. How could he speak when we were like this—I had to focus on the simple act of breathing while he was inside me, and here he was, talking. I could only nod against his shoulder, moving myself in time with him. I moaned loudly as he suckled on my pulse point, one of his hands massaging my breast.

"I want you to have my child, Bella." His voice was deep and husky, a fierce growl ripping from his throat when I dipped my hand between us to where we were joined. I rubbed myself and touched his hard member as he disappeared deep inside me. "I want to see you swell with our kids, I want to be able to kiss your pregnant belly. I want to be able to run my hands over you and feel our baby kick against my palm."

I could barely understand him anymore, and simply hummed as he spoke, blubbering, and blinking water from my eyelashes. "Bella," he growled against my throat, "please consider having kids with me,"

"_Yes!_" I yelled into the air as I came, my walls tightening around his shaft. His thrusts became erratic and wild before he finally stilled inside me, filling me with his seed. I felt my toes curl and kissed his wet shoulder and chest, just peppering his flesh. "I'll think about everything for you, Edward," I said truthfully.

I let him pull me from the shower and dry me off, twisting my dripping hair around his forearm and wrist. Then he led me to the bed, where we spent the rest of the day after we wed.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, they're moving too fast.

I'm thinking of writing a thing for Christmas. A little Christmas Horror Fest thing. What do you think?

Anyone hear the _New Moon_ soundtrack yet? I haven't heard it all—but my favorite is already "Possibility" by Lykke Li. What's yours?

Oh, and tell me what you think about me getting my own Twitter account for my writing. I would post little snippets if I felt like it and such, but it is totally up to you guys. ;D

Hope everyone had a fun and safe Halloween! What was your costume? I myself was a dead reindeer. Bet no one else was.

Please review!

-R.I.


	14. One

**A/N:** Thank you for the lovely reviews! I read every single one—I'm not for replying to them, sadly. Just know that I do read them, and I take every single one to heart. Thanks so much, you guys, for staying with me throughout my sad, sad story.

As one of the reviewers, raindancer, said: _"Happiness can't last forever."_ That it can't. And here we go.

**For Your Listening Pleasure:** (Listen & read in this order) "Freedom Hangs Like Heaven"—Iron & Wine, "Blue Does"—Blue October, "The Raven"—Omnia.

**Credit: **Jess for her lovely part in this story. _The Cake Eaters_ for getting me obsessed with FA, and giving me inspiration when I feel pathetic enough to sneak over to our DVD collection to grab the movie.

**Disclaimer: **_Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Constance, Texas is a fictional town created by yours truly. I'm taking creative license on this story.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: One**

_**Isabella Swan—Age Twenty**_

I couldn't believe it.

Alright, I could understand how it had happened, but Edward and I weren't even out of our parents' houses yet—they didn't even know we had gotten married two months ago. How could this happen? Why _now_?

_Pregnant_.

I'd been irregular for the past eight weeks, spotting strangely without an actual menstrual flow. So, just to prove myself wrong, I went down to the corner store and bought a pregnancy test. Because there was just _no way_ I was pregnant already.

Well, fuck, was I wrong.

_Pregnant!_

With shaky hands, I set the stick down on the bathroom counter, trying to figure out if it was just me breathing strangely or if there was really no oxygen left in this tiny room. What was I going to do? Of course I had to tell Edward—he had to be the first to know.

But then there were Charlie and Renee and even Esme and Carlisle who needed to know that we were married, for one. And second, that I was pregnant.

_Hey, Mom, Dad. You'll never guess. I'm pregnant! Oh, and I'm married, too. Ain't it just swell?_

Right.

Edward and I had only discussed children on our wedding night, and it looked like that I might have already been pregnant. We weren't exactly _careful_, but when out of condoms, he . . . Well, we tried other methods of birth control.

Apparently the teachers in health were right: The Pull-Out Method _did not_ work.

"Bella!" Trilled my mother's voice from the living room, and I jumped, snatching the test from the counter and hurried to find a place to hide it. No pockets. And I couldn't leave it in this bathroom—Renee would surely find it when she was cleaning. So, I stuck it down my pants, the elastic of my panties holding it against hip.

I opened the door of the bathroom just as she was knocking. "Hmm?" I asked, flustered.

"Edward's here,"

_Great!_

"Thanks," I told her, and brushed passed her to the living room. Edward stood on the tile before of the front door, looking like a soaked puppy dog, his hair plastered to his forehead and his clothes dripping. He could have taken a shower with his clothes on. In his hand was a bouquet of red roses, speckled with shimmering droplets.

I walked toward him, smiling, forgetting for a moment the problem we were in. "Hi," I said quietly, taking the flowers he proffered. Cold rainwater dripped onto my bare toes.

"Hey," he said, and dipped his head to give me a kiss on the side of my mouth, aware that Renee was checking on us through the entry to the kitchen, pretending to be washing dishes, when I had just finished that this morning. But instead of moving away, he pressed his lips to the corner of my jaw, his wet hair chilling my cheek. "We should tell them tonight," he whispered.

My eyes went wide and I swallowed hard. "I have to tell you something. Come up to my—"

"So, Edward, are you staying for dinner?" Renee broke in, effectively making me jump back from my secret husband.

He played it out well, smiling kindly down at her with a smile that had made my knees shake. "Is that an invitation?"

"It is if you'll take it,"

"Then, yes,"

I scurried off to get him a towel from upstairs and dropped off the pregnancy test under my pillow. I grabbed an armful of fluffy warm towels straight from the dryer and headed back downstairs, where Edward was still standing on the tile, only so he didn't drip dirty water all over the carpet.

Reaching him, I lifted myself up on my tip-toes and ruffled his beautiful russet hair with a towel, earning a brilliant laugh from him. He wrapped his sopping arms around my waist and I squealed, wishing we were alone, wishing we were outside. He squeezed me tight to his chest, and I had a strange instinct run through my veins.

Perhaps it was something motherly. Maybe I was already, somehow, connected to this unborn child that was probably no larger than my thumbnail.

Instantly, I froze against him, almost yelping "Careful!" before I caught myself and whispered it in his ear instead. Immediately, he loosened his grip and leaned back to look me in the face. I didn't meet his eyes, but told him to come up to my room once dinner was over with. He nodded with a tight jaw.

Dinner was nice. Edward had traded his soaking clothes for some old ones of Charlie's. I threw Edward's clothes in the dryer before quickly taking my seat, scooping out heaping spoonfuls of giant shells and cheese for Edward and my father. Renee batted my hands away when I tried to serve her, and I smirked as I watched Edward and Charlie scarf down their food, seemingly unaware that I had just filled their plates.

There was idle chit-chat until Edward's shoulder straightened, and I was dreadfully aware of what was coming. It wasn't that I didn't wear my engagement ring, I just chose to wear it on the wrong hand. Though Renee had asked me once about the _gorgeous thing on my finger_, I simply shrugged it off, telling her I'd found it in an old box and it might have been a leftover from the people who lived here before them.

Damn, did she believe me.

Under the table, I quickly switched the ring to the correct finger as Edward started speaking.

"Charlie, Renee. I like to call you both my second parents—and Bella and her siblings my own brother and sisters. I love Bella very much, and—" he reached under the table, pulling my left hand up and into view "—and in July, while she and I were in Houston, we got married."

If silence could be silent, it was in my dining room, at that moment. I was painfully aware of Edward's thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of my hand, where my parents couldn't see; and even more so, the disbelieving stares from my mother and father.

"You . . . you're married?" Renee was the first to speak, and I nodded, eyeing Charlie carefully. All color had drained from his face, and I wondered if he was even still in the room with us. My mother sat back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Boy, Alice will have your heads."

"Wait—you're okay with this?" I asked, leaning forward. Charlie still wasn't moving.

Renee smiled at me. "I'm happy for you, sweetheart. I owe Esme twenty bucks—I was certain you two would have waited until Christmas, but I'm happy to lose this bet." And she winked at me.

Charlie was animated again, running his hands over his ashen face. "Jesus." He said into his palms. "Jesus Christ."

"Dad?" I said hesitantly, reaching across the table with my free hand to touch his arm. "Are you okay?"

"Jesus," he repeated, but peeked over his hands to stare at me. "Alice called yesterday. Jasper and her are engaged."

My jaw dropped, and suddenly, I was laughing. Who would have thought that _I_, Miss Terminally Ill, would get married before my _sister_? My hilarity sparked Edward's, and around the table it went, igniting guffaws all around.

Edward's hands were on either side of my face, and he pulled me close, kissing my lips lightly while chuckles still bubbled through his mouth.

~*~*~

I blew out a long breath as I sat directly on my pillow up in my room. Edward shut the door quietly behind him, smirking at me from across the empty space. "Hey," he said quietly, in that amazing bedroom voice, all low and making my insides twist in ways they shouldn't, not now.

He noticed my tense nature and furrowed his brow, moving over to my bed and sitting next to me. "What's wrong?"

I hesitated for just a moment. "Re- . . . Remember when we talked about having kids?" Edward's eyes instantly brightened and I wish they hadn't. He nodded silently, urging me on. "Would it be a bad thing if it happened soon? Like, within the next year?"

Edward blinked, his face adorably confused. "What—What are you saying?"

"I'm saying . . ." I sighed, running my hands into my hair and fisting my fingers at the roots. "I'm saying . . ." I gave up, reaching under me, under the pillow, and yanked out the long white stick, flipping it a few times in my fingers before handing it over to him.

He held it in one end while his other ran through his messy, amazing hair. I watched him as he read and reread the same word I had looked at over a hundred times just a few hours before.

_Pregnant_.

When he looked up at me, his green eyes were brimming with unshed tears. "This isn't some sort of sick joke, is it, Bella?" He asked with an edge of hysteria in his voice. I bit my lip and shook my head. "You're pregnant." Testing the words on his tongue. "_You're pregnant_." He did a lot of blinking, trying to stop the tears from flowing. "With my baby. _You're pregnant._ Oh my God."

There was a long—too long—quiet in my room, but at least it wasn't filled with doom and uncomfortable vibes. I could easily read my husband in that moment. He was practically boiling over with happiness, the salt water in his eyes not of sorrow, but of insane fright and exhilaration.

"We're having a baby,"

I let him have his moment, waiting until he came down his own Cloud 9 before I voiced my concerns. When he finally looked at me with steady eyes, I spoke. "What are we going to do?"

"What do you mean? You're pregnant. I'm—we're going to have a baby. It's going to be perfect."

"Edward," I said slowly, "where are we going to go? We're married and still living in separate houses. You can't honestly think that I'm going to set up a crib over here and one at your place, do you?"

He scoffed at me, as if I had grown four extra heads. "Of course not. We'll get a house."

I let out an exasperated sigh, flopping back on my bed so my head was right against his thigh. We stared at each other, his fingertips stroking my jaw and face for a very long time. "Must you be so optimistic?" I asked out of the blue, my voice whispery and light. His fingers on my face paused and I frowned. He noticed, chuckled, and continued tracing the lines of my face.

"One of us has to," he said lightly, not taking his eyes from mine. In that moment, I had never felt so close to Edward. Not when we were _together_, alone. Not when we were watching a movie and feeding each other popcorn. Not even when I woke up and he was there, snoring lightly by my side. I was carrying his child, and he loved could it get any better?

~*~*~

Edward was right—we did get a house. Two blocks from our original residences, but still, a place of our own. It wasn't big or extravagant—you could only get so much in Constance, Texas; your choices were either shack or two-story. It was amazing, three-bedroom, which I guessed was a silent hint towards more kids. The floors were wood, the walls white and in need of a new paint job. But Edward and I were both in that mode that every person gets into when they get a new house: To fix everything up the way they liked it until it was perfect.

And then you sleep.

The first night in our new house, all we had was an air mattress, two pillows, a chair that had come out of no where, and our suitcases that contained our necessary clothing. Edward started pushing my thin shirt up my back, trailing wet kisses up my spine, as I was blowing up the mattress, knelt near the wall and holding the button down.

I hummed, letting him continue while his hand reached under my and massaged one of my breasts through my shirt. He had no idea how amazing that felt. The damn things had been so sore, swelling until I was sure they were going to burst. Even my largest bra hurt, the wire sticking into my skin. At this point, I had decided that unless I really needed it, they were staying in the drawers (or boxes, in this case).

"Welcome home," he said against the skin of my neck and I flicked the cover closed on the mattress, letting him push me down onto it.

The chair was next, followed by the wall, master bathroom counter (sadly, the water wasn't to be turned on for two more days, or we would have gladly spent some time in the shower).

The second day we dedicated to getting everything into our home. Esme had insisted on supplying the furniture, and my back and boobs hurt so much I wasn't up for a fight with my mother-in-law. Charlie and Carlisle were distant, placing a box here and cutting open tape. Edward worked shirtless, and I didn't even care that my mom was checking him out with me. He was already mine, anyway.

We hadn't gotten anything for the nursery yet besides buckets of muted green, a white called Cappuccino that looked pretty damn like white to me, and a mocha color. I could already picture the crib, dark wood, and squared green-Cappuccino-and-mocha fabric. Tons of stuffed animals and eventually, once we decided a name, blocked letters placed on the wall over where the crib would sit.

Once everyone was gone, at around one that day, Edward lugged the buckets of primer and paint into the room that was going to be the nursery, and I was standing near the window, looking out over the street. It reminded me so much of the view from my old room, only there was no Cullen house across the street, just an overgrown lot of yellow and green grass.

"Hey," Edward said quietly, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist, where a tiny belly was beginning to form under my blue jean overalls. I smiled and turned my head to give him a kiss. He smiled against my lips. "You up for painting with me?" He asked, and I grinned.

"Sure,"

He got me started, bringing in a stereo and placing it in the center of the room while he slid a tarp under my feet. After about fifteen minutes, he disappeared with the excuse of getting us something the drink. In his absence, I continued rolling the white primer on the wall, my hair tied back in a messy ponytail that every woman wears while working on their house—you know the one.

I swayed my hips to the catchy music on the radio station. It was hard to find anything but country down here, but Edward had landed himself on Jack FM and I found myself singing along and dancing to lyrics like _"Yeah, yeah. Dude looks like a lady!"_ and _"I'm goin' off the rails on a crazy train!"_

Suddenly, Edward was back, but he wasn't carrying drinks. Instead, he held a video camera in his hands, introducing me as "Mommy" while I swatted him away, my face as red as a tomato at being caught.

"Oh, come on, love." Edward said, sounding dejected, "Don't hide," I peeked through my hands, which were speckled with primer. "There you are," he cooed as I showed my whole face before lunging for the camera, almost knocking it from his hands. He laughed, holding it out my reach, above my head. "Ah, ah, ah!" He said, turning the lens on us and rubbing our noses together. "Don't want Mommy to exert herself, now, do we?" And he kissed me hard and fierce.

When we pulled away, I was breathless, and looked nervously up at the video recorder. "Who is going to be watching this, exactly?" I asked.

He pretended to consider this for a moment, finally pulling his arm back down. "Oh, I don't know. Family, friends. A few strangers. Our kids," And he kissed me again, but I held my palm over the lens so it didn't record it.

Then Edward dropped to his knees, twisting me to the side. "Now, come on, let Daddy see," and he gently tugged on the front pocket of my coveralls. I smiled, so amazed with this side of Edward—Daddy Edward.

I popped open the buttons, letting the front fall open and lifted up my purple shirt. "Look at you!" He said, staring up at me with a mask of horror on. "Jesus, how big are you going to get?" I playfully punched his shoulder, moving to cover myself back up, but he stopped me, making sure the camera was catching all of this.

He smiled for the lens, and the leaned forward and kissed the taught skin of my belly.

~*~*~

_It is raining four days after Edward and I started painting the nursery. We hadn't finished, and today we were supposed to start moving in the beautiful crib and rocking chair and changing table. I get up early, easing myself quietly out of the bed, hoping not to wake Edward._

_I take a shower and pull the laundry from the hamper, at least hoping to get some sort of housework done before we start dragging new things into our home. I wrap a warm white towel around my nude body, almost hoping Edward will wake and gently twist me out of it._

_I'm bending carefully to pick up the load of white clothes when I feel it. A sharp, strange pain, centered around and inside my hips. I stand, confused, wondering if I need to use the restroom. But the feeling subsides and I throw a few pieces of clothes into the washer._

_I bend again, and the pain is stronger, directly in the pit of my stomach, where our child rests, at only thirteen weeks old. It probably doesn't even have eyelashes yet._

_When I stand, I'm horrified. Among the foamy white of the clothes, a speck of red has landed, from between my legs. I stare, confused, scared, in pain, as another wave hits, and a rush of blood trickles down the inside of my right thigh, staining the towel and linen under my feet._

_I scream, and go under._

_When I do wake up again, Edward is with me, holding my hand. I feel hollow, like someone has come along and pulled from me every organ, taking them from my center and leaving me without a breath, a heartbeat, a stomach._

_Edward is with me, and the baby is gone._

* * *

**A/N:** Please don't hit me. It must be done, I'm not being only cruel.

Twilighted(dot)Net, anyone? I have my own, Twilighted exclusive up, called _Deteriorating_. It has a vampire Edward. ;D Check it out—you have to be a member, though. I'm under the same screen name, so you shouldn't have to search too hard to find me.

It seems you would all like me to have my own Twitter, and though I'm not fond of the damn thing, I'll do it, because you guys are amazing. It will be under my same screen name, so just keep an eye on my profile, or search Twitter every now and then to see if I've gotten one.

Please review!

-R.I.


	15. Healing

**A/N:** SO SORRY IT'S TAKEN ME FOREVER TO GET THIS UPLOADED!! I'm a horrible person—throw your worst at me!

Honestly, school has got me by the nose, yanking me this way and that and I just can't get caught up. When I was writing this I _should_ have been practicing my violin Jury (a solo, scale and subdividing test that's extremely important, even for me, a non-major), but, if you know me at all, I'm an amazing procrastinator and I do what I want. So I wrote this chapter.

_Now_, I can play my violin.

Enjoy.

**Credit: **Jess for her lovely part in this story. _The Cake Eaters_ for getting me obsessed with FA, and giving me inspiration when I feel pathetic enough to sneak over to our DVD collection to grab the movie.

**Disclaimer: **_Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Constance, Texas is a fictional town created by yours truly. I'm taking creative license on this story.

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Healing**

_**Edward Cullen—Age Twenty (Note: At the beginning of this chapter, Edward is speaking in the past-tense; he is telling what is happening before, around the holidays, when he was nineteen years old. When the "present" action actually begins, it is his birthday, and he's just turned twenty.)**_

By the time the holiday season came pricking at the back of my neck, I was beginning to think Bella would never get over the loss of our baby.

There had been a period of time where she would wake from our shared bed and silently make her way down the hall to curl herself up on the windowsill in the unfinished nursery and stay there all day until she came back to sleep. She would not speak and refused to eat. This stage lasted exactly two weeks before I put my foot down. She was torturing herself by holing up in the baby's room and she was dropping too much weight; I was starting to see the outline of her ribs under the skin of her chest. When I was fed up, I did something I hadn't allowed myself to do unless to bring food to her (that she wouldn't even look at.)

I entered the nursery.

And there was Bella—not _my_ Bella, but Bella nonetheless—with her forehead pressed against the glass of the window as she stared with dead, unseeing eyes, out into the overgrown lot outside. I took a deep breath and took two long strides to her side. She didn't even budge; it barely looked like she was breathing. Bending over slightly, I scooped one arm under her crooked legs and the other under her arms and hauled her up. She felt as light as a child, and almost as fragile as a bird.

She didn't have a reaction to my actions until I dumped her on the couch next to me in the house that I had finished furnishing without her. I sat down on the other end and flicked the television to Food Network, hoping it would spark something within her. I knew Bella was in there, somewhere, I just had to pull her back to the surface. Some fried chicken crackled on the screen and she turned her head towards me, looking at me like she wasn't sure how she had gotten down here with me. When she remembered, she narrowed her eyes at me and moved to stand, to leave and go back to her empty shell. Before she could right herself completely, I grabbed her arm and halted her movements. She stared down at me with hopeless and broken brown eyes and I had to swallow down the lump in my throat before I spoke.

"I would like to spend some time with my wife." I said, my voice careful and quiet, "Please."

Bella blinked once, hesitated. She shook as she sat back down, much closer to me this time, and I released her arm. She sat stiff for a long time, rigid like a board, unsure how to interact normally anymore.

But after an hour of uncomfortable silence and Iron Chef, I could feel her muscles begin to loosen, and eventually I found myself with my own Bella blanket. She had crawled over and wrapped herself around me, nuzzling her face into my chest.

After that day, things started getting better. There had been an imaginary line that Bella had drawn for herself in front of the nursery door, and she would never touch the door or peer inside. She began to eat again, and engaged in small talk. To anyone on the outside, she would seem to be back to normal, "cured," even.

I knew, though. She wasn't completely back yet. She would laugh and smile and kiss me, but her eyes were always distant, seeing something that _could_ have been, but would never happen.

She would allow me to make love to her, and in these hours were where she really became my Bella again. She was still the insanely passionate woman I knew, always one to experiment and gasp and nibble and bite and just drive me insanely wild.

That fire inside her would die as soon as she stood from the bed and went to the bathroom afterwards. It was as if she would take off her skin and replace it with a different one, one that didn't fit her just right.

Bella lasted through Christmas. She drank her way down her own champagne bottle on New Years. Valentines Day she clung to me, giving me her chocolate-covered lips and being absurdly frisky.

I wasn't sure what caused her to break her depressive habits, but it happened on June twentieth—my twentieth birthday. I woke to a light kiss to my forehead and the smell of a rich and fluffy omelet. When I pealed away my eyelids Bella was looking down at me with a grin on her face.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." she whispered, gently running her fingers through my hair as I sat up in our bed. I looked to the alarm clock to find it reading 11:23 AM. I cracked a smile up at her and pulled the tray closer to me.

"How much did you make?" I asked as she walked around the edge of the bed and crawled over to my side, spooning against me. Stuffed onto the small surface area of the tray was a huge, puffy omelet, a large bowl of assorted fruits, a plate of toast, some bacon, hash browns, and two glasses of cranberry-apple juice. My favorite.

"Mmm," she hummed into my shoulder, reaching out and picking up one of the glasses and carefully swirled the purple-pink liquid around, "enough for two."

I smiled at her and kissed her hairline before diving in for cheesy and eggy goodness. While I ate, she plucked berries from the bowl and popped them between her lips. And when she bit into a strawberry and the juice pooled on her lower lip, I couldn't stand it anymore.

Something had shifted inside my Bella between the hour we fell asleep and when she brought me something to eat this morning. And I could feel it—she was whole again. It was amazing and thrilling.

Quickly, I picked the tray from over me and leaned to set it on the ground by the bed. With the half-eaten strawberry still in her hand, I tilted in and closed my mouth over Bella's, lapping at her taste mixed with the juice. I pulled away quickly and found that her brown eyes were wide and surprised, the green of the berry pinched tightly between her fingertips. She swallowed hard and lifted the strawberry to my mouth, running the edge of her bite along my lower lip.

Her breathing was already heavy as I took the berry between my teeth and bit down. The nectar dripped down my chin and she lunged for it, licking at my skin with her small tongue. I took a deep breath and dipped my head, stealing her mouth and letting our tongues dance. She gasped dropping the forgotten strawberry over the edge of the bed and moving her damp fingers greedily to my face.

I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her over me, and she instinctively placed her thighs on either side of my hips, easily straddling me. I smiled against her lips at how perfectly she knew me. She returned the smile for the briefest of moments before kissing me again. I trailed my hands up from her hips, my fingertips bringing along her shirt. The feminine dip of her back made the air rush out of my lungs and I moved my mouth from hers to bury it in her neck.

She leaned her head back to allow me better access and—I'm almost certain she did it on purpose—pushed herself back towards the hardness that was already forming in my pajama pants. I groaned and locked my jaws down on her neck, earning a whimper from her. Her hands slipped into my hair and her blunt nails massaged my scalp in a way that sent shocks down my back.

Bella mewled, and I pulled away to tug her pesky shirt off. I dropped it next to us, not caring if it found its way off the bed or not. She wasn't wearing a bra, like I wasn't wearing a shirt, and the feel of our bare flesh meeting made us both hiss. It was different—_Bella_ was different. I could feel it, I could just tell. I pulled her even closer, but higher, letting myself trail wet and open-mouthed kisses all over her collarbones and the beginnings of her breasts.

She was gasping and letting out little huffs and moans that only egged me on. I found myself hovering over her and her hands fisting into my hair, holding me to her mouth as our tongues battled for dominance.

Her knees were wide apart, letting me settle between her legs; I could feel the heat from her core through both of our sleep pants and it drove me insane. She blew into my ear, her breath warm and delicious across my sensitive skin. "Edward," she whispered my name and I pressed my cheek to hers. My hand was cupping her right breast, gently rolling the pebbled nipple between my thumb and forefinger. "Oh. . . ." She let her head fall back, supporting herself on her elbows while they shook at the sensations I was sending down her body.

Bella shimmied out of her thin bottoms and kicked them off the bed. I smiled down at her and she grinned lazily in response. "There you are," I murmured lovingly, kissing around her left eye and making my way down her face until I could claim her mouth. I let my free hand rest lightly over her heated center, feeling, even through her panties, how wet she was for me. I blew a heavy breath out through tight lips and ducked my head to her exposed breast, lavishing it with my teeth and tongue. She gasped and arched her back towards me. I suckled on the sweet under-side of her breast, leaving a round red mark.

"Edward. . . ." God, the way she said my name had me tripping along the edge of a knife. I yanked her shirt the rest of the way off of her and scooted her further back on the bed, letting her head rest between the fluffy pillows. Her eyes were wide and deep brown, almost black, as she reached up and encircled my neck with her arms, bringing me down so her lips could move over mine.

While she kissed me, I kicked off my bottoms and smiled at myself for never wearing boxers under pajamas. She sucked in a breath of mine when she felt my hardness against her thigh, her eyes meeting mine with a wild intensity that had been absent for months.

She pulled my ear to her lips and took a shaky breath. "Make love to me, Edward," she said in a low, out-of-breath voice; she bit around the shell of my ear and I bucked my hips into her, reeling as she let out a moan.

I leaned back and pealed off her panties, letting them join with the company of the other articles of clothing that had already been discarded. She situated herself under me as I aligned with her entrance. I held her gaze as I slid easily and slowly into her. She was the first to break eye contact, letting her eyes roll back and her head tilt north on the pillows.

A long, content groan ripped from my chest, as if I was arriving home from some long and stressful journey. _I was home_.

She wrapped her arms under mine, securing her dull nails in the muscles over my shoulder blades before I had even moved within her. Her eyebrows were pulled together and up in the middle, a sob face that she wore when she was close to being undone. I cradled my arms under her, using only my elbows and knees as support, as she wrapped her legs around my waist and locked her ankles, bringing me deeper inside her.

Bella buried her head in my neck, kissing the top of my collarbone. Finally, I drew back, just as slowly as I had entered, and hissed as her heat left me. Again and again, I pushed in and pulled away in a penetrating and steady rhythm. She was panting in my ear as her muscles tightened and pulled me in deeper, her hips rising to meet mine.

It took everything I had not to take her with oblivion, to completely let this lust devour me. Today I did not want that for us—today it would be slow, and a release of anything foul she still had left inside of her. She bent her neck and kissed and open-mouthed trail up my throat, her breath hot and heavy against my moist skin. Every time I filled her completely, and little noise would escape her lips—a moan, a whimper, a sigh. Every one drove me wild.

There was a twist this time. Instead of the arch of her back and the rapid squeezing of her muscles around my length that normally told me of the ride of pleasure she was going on, there was a deep warmth beginning to heat from far inside her. I opened my mouth and I could taste it, the difference in the air, the flavor of the two of us filling our entire world.

She cried against my skin, blinking up at me with tears in her eyes. "Edward, I . . . there's something wrong. . . ."

No, there was nothing wrong. Couldn't she sense how amazing this felt? The intense flame?

"I can't . . . I . . ." she panted into my mouth as I kissed her. Another cry escaped her barriers, sounding like she was giving up.

"Bella," I brushed my lips along hers. "Can't you feel it? You can. . . . I know you can, Bella."

But as my words landed on her tongue she shook her head, her nails biting into my skin. "It doesn't feel right . . ." she was breathless, her face dazed from lack of air. All I could taste and smell was her. All I could feel was her and sensation. "No, no, no . . ." she blubbered wetly against my skin while I continued to push into her.

I was very close to my own climax, but I would not allow her to think she could not come. Not now. I willed myself deeper into her, searching for that special spot inside her that would make her orgasm rip through her.

"No—oh, oh, _oh_!" She started calling, and I could feel the shift of her muscles around me, the way they gently pulled me in. I could feel her tightening of her lungs under me, the way they sucked my own breath and oxygen away. She was still sobbing against my chest, but in pleads and wishes, telling me to never stop. I let a crooked smile play on my lips as she pulled me down closer to her with her arms, and we were pressed completely together.

Bella lifted her head and our lips met in a passionate, loving kiss and our circuit was complete. She came at that instant, every muscle in her body clenching so tightly that she had trouble screaming out my name. At that I let myself rush head-first into my oblivion, all five senses surrounded with Bella, my wife, my everything.

I pumped into her sporadically as we rode the waves out together, mine ending far before hers. She was still whimpering and moaning when I was able to steady my vision and peer down at her beautiful face, layered with a sheen of sweat.

When she was only trembling under me, I rolled so I was on my side next to her, and pulled her into me.

She broke, splitting directly in half and began to weep in my arms. Her cries were raw and choppy, and she clawed at me, like I was her only hold on her life and reality. I only held her, rocking us slightly while I kissed her forehead and whispered that it would be okay, that I was here, and she was going to be okay.

And just as her sobs were beginning to seem endless, she did run dry, quiet and painful sighs coming from her. She pressed close to me, and I was suddenly jealous of our skins that kept us so separated from each other.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered into my chest, her words muffled.

"Don't," I replied. And for once, she didn't. After a few minutes, I spoke again, hesitantly. "Are you okay."

She thought about it. Nodding slowly, she said, "Yes. . . . Thank you, Edward."

I brought my finger under her chin and lifted her lips to mine. "I love you," I told her. She smiled sleepily up at me, returning my love.

"I love you too, Edward. So much."

* * *

**A/N:** Hope you liked! ;D

I've gotten a few questions about that one, horrid cliffhanger that I had for you guys involving Edward and Alice. Now, just to clear some things up—no, you did not miss something hidden in the story, and yes, it will come up eventually. Secondly, it wasn't innocent as some of you want to think it was. : D And I'll leave it there.

I HAVE A TWITTER! ;D You can go to my profile page for the direct link, or if you're crafty, you can follow RI_FanFiction. That's me! I just got this handy little cell phone called a Droid Eris. Yeah, you're all jealous. I know. It's just as awesome as it looks on TV, I promise, if not better.

Enough of my rambling, it's time for you to REVIEW!

-R.I.


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